


Coming Home

by OrangeTabby



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dungeons & Dragons References, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Food, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Propositions, Shameless Smut, The Princess Bride References, Veterinary Medicine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 71,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeTabby/pseuds/OrangeTabby
Summary: Sansa Stark is coming home to Winterfell, escaping the pain and abuse of her life in Kings Landing and determined to make a new life for herself and her young daughter. Will she be able to overcome the demons of her past and find love in the arms of a scarred and lonely stranger?A SanSan modern AU love story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first venture into SanSan territory! I hope you enjoy :-)

Arya’s taste in music was a little dubious. They’d been taking turns choosing the audio entertainment on their long journey; Sansa tended toward podcasts about Westerosi history, and Kat liked to listen to albums from the popular children’s group Dany and the Sparkle Dragons. Arya however was a fan of Braavosi New Wave Progressive Funk. Or so she claimed was the name of the genre. It sounded like a chaos of noise to Sansa and the best that could be said for it was that Arya turned the music down whenever Kat fell asleep, so as not to disturb her niece.

Sansa didn’t really mind though, because Arya had driven across most of Westeros to pick them up and Sansa had almost cried with relief at seeing her little sister again. Arya had also been very generous letting them share the car sound system on her return journey, even mostly tolerating the numerous cheerful songs about friendly dragons.

“So he doesn’t give you any fucking money for his kid?” Arya shifted her gaze from the road long enough to shoot Sansa a disbelieving look.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “That’s the point of him choosing to sever his parental rights. Joffrey doesn’t have to pay child support, but he also can’t apply for visitation or shared custody of Kat.”

“You should have come home the first time the weaselly little fucker hit you.”

“Believe me, no one regrets that more than me. But we’re here now. All I can do is move forward.”

Sansa looked over her shoulder to where her daughter, little Catelyn Stark, sat sleeping in her car seat. Her head was tilted to the side, and she was drooling on the small plush wolf she was still clutching. There was nothing of Joffrey in his eighteen-month-old daughter. She had Sansa’s auburn hair and blue eyes, and most importantly, was sweet natured and showed no signs of her father’s temper or sadistic streak.  

Sansa shivered at the memory of Joffrey, and she was flooded with contempt with herself for staying with him for so long. Believing that he would change his behaviour. Enjoying the kindness he’d show her after he hurt her, thinking perhaps things would stay better. They never did, but she always lived with a kind of helpless hope that they would.

Even now a little bit of her still loved the nice Joffrey, the one whose smile would light up a room. Provided he got his own way, of course.

The cruel Joffrey was his real face though. Even more than herself, she’d had to get away for the sake of her daughter. She couldn’t have Kat growing up believing the way Joffrey treated Sansa was normal. Thinking that hidden bruises were fine so long as they couldn’t be seen in public. That saying heartbreaking and vicious things to the person you were supposed to love was acceptable. Joffrey might have broken her, but he’d never break her child. She’d done that much to stop the cycle of abuse.

“Hey,” said Arya, breaking into her reverie. “I can hear you thinking. No one blames you for staying with that vicious little cunt for as long as you did. He fucked with your head.”

Sansa took a deep breath to centre herself. She was here, in the truck with Arya and Kat. They were finally safe and going home. “Language, Arya,” she chided gently, once she could speak.

Arya gestured with her chin towards the back seat but kept her eyes firmly on the road. “Kat’s asleep, I’m allowed to swear.”

Sansa allowed herself a smile, then gave an unladylike snort. “You’re as bad as Tyrion. It took him ages to spell curse words instead of saying them once Kat began talking.”

“How is the Imp?”

“Don’t call him that, it’s a horrible nickname,” Sansa said sharply. She didn’t think she could have managed to get away from Kings Landing if not for Joffrey’s uncles, particularly Tyrion. She’d never have been able to afford any legal representation, but he did everything for her and Kat pro bono. He claimed he enjoyed getting one over on his evil shit of a nephew, as he termed it, not to mention Joffrey’s terrifying mother Cersei.

Arya laughed, the wretch. “He loves it, Sans. He calls himself that.”

“Doesn’t mean you should. Anyway, he’s fine. I think he had fun filing the paperwork to change Kat’s surname to Stark.” Sansa’s only regret about leaving Kings Landing was separating Tyrion and Kat. He was wonderful with her, and they got up to all kinds of mischief together.

“Did he give you any money when you left?”

“Arya!” Sansa frowned at her sister, then sighed. “He offered to, but I said no. He said he’d talk to Jaime and they’ll set up a fund for Kat’s education instead.”

Arya tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s the least they can do.”

“Don’t blame them. I chose to stay with Joffrey. They’ve been nothing but helpful since I left him.”

Arya growled under her breath, like the wolves she loved so much.

Sansa leaned her head back against the seat, watching the countryside whizz past in the fading daylight. It was the plains of the Barrowlands, dotted with low hills formed from the graves of the First Men. They’d left King’s Landing five days ago in Arya’s gigantic four-wheel drive, with Kat and Sansa’s worldly possessions carefully stowed in the boot and on the roof rack. Kat hadn’t let go of the little toy wolf that Arya had brought along for her as a gift.

She hadn’t felt much like talking at the start of the journey, but the further north they drove, the lighter Sansa’s mood became. She’d loved Kings Landing when she first moved down there to attend university. The excitement of living in a big city had been profound, and there had been so many new experiences to try. Now her memories of it were tainted with Joffrey. Sansa had drifted away from her friends there because Joffrey hadn’t liked her socialising without him, and she’d become isolated.

“I for one am looking forward to a hot bath.” Arya said at the end of the song she’d been singing along to. “I never thought I’d be sick of driving this beast, but I’m ready to get back to my wolves.”

Arya was a wolf biologist. Seeing her again after so long, Sansa was startled to see how much her sister had grown up. Not physically, because she was tiny and Sansa felt as leggy as a Lhazaran antelope next to her. Mentally though, Arya had finished her post-graduate studies and was living with her boyfriend Gendry. A real adult. Far more of a success than her older sister, slinking home in defeat with her child in tow.

Sansa shook herself again, determined not to let her feelings of failure deflate her mood. “How has it been, living in the guest quarters?”

Arya shrugged expressively. “I’m not there that much, I’m usually camping out in the forest with the pack. Gendry doesn’t mind it though. The Westerosi Historical Society leave us alone and the units are a decent size.”

Sansa hummed in contemplation. “I wonder if they’d take me on as a tour guide.”

“Of course they would. A real Stark, showing the tour groups around the Stark ancestral home? Fuck Sansypants, they’d sell their souls to have you on board.”

Sansa laughed at the old childhood nickname. She and Arya had clashed as children, but the love was always there. Especially now there were so few Starks left. “I’d like to do that, provided they pay enough to cover childcare for Kat.”

They lapsed into silence again, both lost in their own thoughts as they got closer to Winterfell. Kat stirred a little, but stayed asleep.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog,” Sansa said eventually. “I know you and Gendry will be in the cottage next to ours, but I’d feel better having a dog as well. Rationally speaking, I don’t think Joff would bother to come for us, but still…” She shuddered with remembered fear.

Arya gave her a sideways look. “I’m friends with the Vet who runs the local dog shelter. Well, friends might be going a bit far because Sandor is a grumpy son of a bitch, but he knows what he’s doing. I can SMS him about you and see if he has any suitable dogs.”

Sansa nodded. “Thanks. Just let him know that the dog has to be safe to have around children.”

“Yeah Sans, I know.”

The sun had set when they finally pulled into their old ancestral home, Winterfell. They’d had to let it be taken over by the Westerosi Historical Society after their parents died, but they’d retained ownership of the guest quarters which had long ago been converted into a cluster of little cottages on the edge of the Godswood.

Sansa hopped out of the truck and opened the back door, unbuckling a sleepy Kat and taking her into her arms. The toddler put her arms around Sansa’s neck and laid her curly red head on her mother’s shoulder.

“Mumma?” whispered Kat softly.

Sansa hugged her daughter closer, then took a deep breath of the crisp northern air and smiled. “We’re home, Kat. We’ve come home.”


	2. Chapter 2

Her family’s ancestral home still smelled like Sansa’s childhood. Furniture polish and wood with a faint whiff of sulphur from the Winterfell hot springs. Except now with an overlay of what Westerosi Historical Society property manager Davos Seaworth claimed was hand processed fair trade organic Dornish coffee.

Davos beamed proudly at the antique tables dotted around the café that now inhabited the old Great Hall of Winterfell, all thoroughly polished and sporting arrangements of fresh flowers. A large group of tourists inhabited one corner. Sansa eyed them. They must be from the south, because they were inexplicably wearing short-sleeved shirts and would therefore freeze once they left the warmth of the keep.   

“Our Great Hall café is the heart of the castle,” he said, his eyes glistening with fond emotion. “And my Stannis makes a fine slow-roasted quail. We’ve become well known for it.”

Sansa was unsure what she’d expected from her former family home becoming a tourist attraction, but it was not slow-roasted quail. Or hand processed fair trade organic Dornish coffee, to be fair. “Well,” she said with her customary politeness, “the Westerosi Historical Society has done a very, ah, thorough job of maintaining the property.”

Davos gave her a respectful nod. “And might I say, Lady Sansa, we’d be honoured to have you as a tour guide.”

“Just Sansa is fine,” Sansa said automatically. None of them used their titles. Arya said being addressed as ‘Lady’ made her feel like a character in a particularly turgid bodice-ripper.

Davos smiled at her. He gave her the impression of being a pleasant man, though he seemed oddly matched with his dour husband Stannis, whom she’d met briefly at the reception desk. “As you say, Miss Sansa. And you must bring your precious daughter in for a visit. She’s the image of your Lady mother. And yourself of course.”

Sansa perked up at the mention of Catelyn senior. “You knew Mum?”

“I met her when she was younger, before she married your father. She was a great beauty.” Davos looked misty eyed in remembrance.

The pang of loss at the thought of her parents was familiar, but it still stung. Sansa smiled anyway. “It’s lovely to hear from someone who knew her.” She jumped as the group of tourists let out a loud cheer. One of them had a chunky pottery mug of coffee balanced on his head. “When would you like me to start the job? I need to find childcare for little Kat, but other than that I’m free to begin.”

Davos brightened, resolutely ignoring the antics of the customers. “The Archivist here, Samwell Tarly, has a wife who runs a creche. Gilly, her name is, she’s a good lass. I can give you her number?”

“Yes, thank you, I’d appreciate that.”

Davos led her back to the reception desk, and he pulled out what looked like an ancient address book. He carefully printed a phone number from the book onto a scrap of paper and handed it to her.

He looked a little sheepish. “Writing came late to me, so it’s a touch messy.”

“I can read it perfectly, thank you.”

“Let me know when you have made arrangements for the little lady. We’re coming into tourist season so we’ll be getting busy. Sam will be pleased to take fewer tours, he’s happier staying in the archives.”

“Thank you, Davos, it was nice meeting you.”

“No thank you, La… ah, Sansa. Having the oldest Stark daughter in our employ is a coup of epic proportions.”

 

***

 

Anxiety always hovered whenever Sansa went somewhere new. Yet another legacy of Kings Landing; too many memories of Joff criticising the way she’d talk to new people, scoffing at the clothes she wore, picking metaphorical holes in everything she did. Eventually she’d stopped going out unless it was absolutely necessary, and she still found it difficult to do so.

The walk to the vet clinic in Winter town was a long one, but Sansa found it peaceful pushing Kat’s stroller in the cold, clean air. Kat enjoyed it too, holding up her plush wolf, whose name was apparently WahWah, to see the sights whilst she babbled to him nonsensically.

Their destination was on the far edge of the town. The clinic had flower beds out the front, blooming with gillyflowers and evening stars in shades of purple and white. Kat gave a squeal of delight at the sight of them. ‘Winter town Veterinary Clinic and Dog Shelter’ read the large sign on the main structure. There were more buildings behind the main one, and the grounds appeared to be large.

She heard dogs barking happily from the rear of the clinic and Sansa smiled down at her daughter. “Okay sweetling, let’s go and find us a lovely doggy.”

Sansa suppressed the flare up of nerves she had from entering a new place and pushed Kat through the big automatic double doors.

The reception area smelled like antiseptic and pets. A huge, fluffy, black cat had sprawled itself across several seats. It didn’t seem to be with an owner. An LED candle sat on one end of the reception desk, in front of a sign that read ‘If this candle is lit, it means someone has lost a beloved pet today. Please be respectful at this sad time.’ The candle was illuminated.

The attractive red headed woman sitting behind the desk followed Sansa’s gaze. “Clegane lost a pup this morning in emergency surgery. The family were devastated, poor buggers.”

“Oh that’s so sad,” replied Sansa quietly.

The woman hummed in agreement. Her nametag said ‘Ygritte’. She looked over Sansa’s shoulder towards the cat in the waiting area. “Oi, piss off, Stranger. We need those seats for real patients.”

Sansa turned around to watch the cat, Stranger, hop off the seats and stalk over to sit underneath a display of brochures about pet care. His yellow eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Ygritte.

“Puss puss,” called Kat cheerfully. She waved WahWah at the cat, who ostentatiously ignored her.

“I’m here to see Sandor Clegane,” said Sansa, looking back at the receptionist. “He’s expecting me.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Ygritte, eyeing Kat, “because he doesn’t doctor for human children.”

Sansa laughed weakly, unsure if the woman was making a joke. She found it hard to tell, because Ygritte wasn’t smiling.

Ygritte disappeared through a door leading to the rear of the building, then came back a minute later. “He won’t be long,” she said to Sansa.

Sansa thanked the woman and manoeuvred Kat’s stroller to park at the end of the row of seats. She sat down beside her daughter and took another deep breath to calm herself, centring herself on the sensation of the hard plastic seats, the sharp clean scent of the room, the texture of the cat Stranger’s fur from where he lurked below the brochures. He’d switched his unfathomable gaze to her, and she felt he was judging her in the way cats do.

The veterinarian strode into the waiting area, bursting through a swinging door with a ‘staff only’ sign above it. He was enormous. Sansa had always been tall, but this man was huge. He wore scrubs, but his hair hung loose, long and black, matching his full beard. Some of his hair covered the right side of his face, partly obscuring horrific burn scars. Arya had mentioned them, but the reality shocked Sansa more than she had expected. It looked as if half his face had melted and Sansa was overwhelmed with sympathy for anyone who had endured such a terrible trauma.

She realised she had been staring and moved her gaze to his eyes. She and the man were too far apart for her to discern his eye colour, but they seemed dark and fathomless. She shifted the pram over and stood up to greet him.

“Hi, I’m Sansa Stark,” she said, “my sister Arya mentioned to you I was looking for a dog?”

There was a pause as he frowned and looked her up and down, then shifted his gaze to Kat, who was babbling loudly to WahWah again. “This is a vet clinic,” he said abruptly, in a gravelly voice, “not a fucking kindergarten.”

The vet sounded so furious, as if having Sansa bringing her child with her caused him to have a profound contempt for her actions. She blinked, trying to think of something to say in response. Without warning, she was swamped by memories of Joffrey’s voice calling her useless, worthless, a waste of time.

Sansa’s chest turned heavy, as if she tried to breathe with a boulder on top of her. There was a roaring sound in her ears and she instinctively moved to position her body between her daughter and the angry man.

The door to outside was just behind her, and she turned her focus to it, feeling like she was trying to move through syrup. Thick, boiling syrup. Her breathing rasped in her ears. The man said something more in his rough voice, but Sansa focused on the need to escape. As she fled through the door with Kat, she could make out the receptionist calling the vet what sound distinctly like “a fucking wanker”.

Tears blurred her vision, and she almost ran over some of the flowers with Kat’s pram once they were outside and safe. Sansa hurried back towards Winterfell, absorbed in her own failure and inability to be a normal, functioning person.

 

***

 

Late that afternoon Kat watched a Dany and the Sparkle Dragons concert on television for the umpteenth time while Sansa took a break with a cup of tea. The jaunty strains of ‘Drogon the Magic Dragon’ surrounded Sansa as she relaxed with her drink. She smiled at her daughter as Kat bobbed to the music with ginger curls bouncing, waving her chubby arms vigorously in the air.

The front door opened, and Arya came in without knocking. “Hey ladies,” she said cheerfully.

“Yaya!” squealed Kat, running over and attaching herself to her Aunt’s leg.

“Hello Kitty Kat,” said Arya fondly, ruffling the child’s soft hair. She looked over at Sansa. “Kids gonna get covered in wolf fur from my jeans. The pack’s pups were keen to play today.”

Sansa smiled. “She’s a Stark, wolf fur is completely appropriate.”

Arya finished removing her big jacket and flopped onto the couch beside Sansa. Kat grinned then abandoned her Aunt and mother in favour of resuming her dance.

“So,” Arya said, stealing Sansa’s cup of tea and taking a sip. “Ahh that’s good tea. So, I heard you don’t have a dog yet.”

Sansa removed her cup from her sisters grasp and took it with her to the little kitchen to turn on the kettle. “I’m an idiot,” she said through the open double doors. “I panicked and ran away from the vets.”

Arya shifted on the couch so she could see Sansa. “You’re not an idiot Sans. Well, not in this case.” She grinned wickedly, then became serious. “Sandor said his scars upset you?”

Sansa paused in the middle of retrieving a Riverlands Breakfast flavoured tea bag from the box. “What? No, of course not. He just made a comment in an angry voice and I lost it.” Sansa cringed with embarrassment over her reaction to something as simple as words.

“Well, that’s not surprising. He’s a rude fucker. Angry, ugly, rude.” She counted the vet’s flaws off on her fingers. “He can be decent though, he’s helped me with the wolves before. Wouldn’t take any money for it. The pack even liked the big jerk.”

Sansa poured hot water into the mug, then added milk, leaving the tea bag in since Arya liked it strong. She walked back to the couch and passed the mug to Arya who smiled her thanks. “I don’t even remember exactly what he said. Nothing too terrible. Like I said, I’m just an idiot, and I panicked.”

Arya eyed her sister over the rim of her mug. “Why don’t we go in at the weekend? I’ll set up another time, Gendry can babysit Kat and we’ll go together.”

Sansa grimaced as tears of shame sprung to her eyes again. “I’m supposed to be strong, not a mess who runs out of a vet surgery like a crazy person.”

“Getting over bad stuff takes time,” Arya said, sounding exasperated. “After Mum, Dad and Robb died I thought things would always be shit. But we all moved on. We still miss them, but we all are living our lives without them. It’s the same for you now, you need to get through the shit parts then you’ll be okay. Stop beating yourself up about it.”

Sansa wiped her eyes and gazed at her sister. “That was surprisingly insightful Arya.”

Arya gave a smug grin and nudged Sansa with her free arm. “Don’t expect any repeat wisdom. This is a one-time only offer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, that wasn’t exactly the best start for Sansa and Sandor! I hope her freak out at the vet clinic didn’t seem too sudden – I based it on my own experiences of anxiety, where things can go: okay, okayish, a bit edgy, okay, pretty good, fine, SUDDEN FREAK OUT. 
> 
> Also, I’m new to reading (and now writing!) GoT fanfic, though I’ve been a fan of G.R.R.Martin since the early 2000s. I had never considered Davos/Stannis before reading a couple of fics mentioning that pairing, and I was instantly like, yes, I ABSOLUTELY SHIP THAT. So naturally I had to include them in this story :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and kind comments! I'm not used to writing for such a big fandom but it's been a blast thus far <3

Sansa leaned down and kissed Kat’s forehead, smoothing her soft auburn curls back.

“Luff Mumma,” the toddler murmured sleepily, clutching WahWah to her chest.

“I love you too, Kitty Kat,” Sansa whispered, tucking the blankets around her daughter and tiptoeing out of the bedroom.

She flopped down on the couch beside her sister, who was scowling as she SMSed someone on her phone. Checking the level of the wine in the bottle, Sansa poured herself another glass and topped up Arya’s.

“Gendry’s going to be home even later than expected,” Arya said by way of explanation. “His dwarven cleric accidentally let Hot Pie’s gnomish wizard die fighting a mind flayer, and he has to stay longer to deal with the aftermath.”

Sansa laughed, almost choking on her sip of wine. “You don’t have to hang out with me if you’d rather join in his role-playing evening.”

“Fuck no, I prefer to keep role-playing in the bedroom. Gendry’s cleric can buff my half-orc rogue any time he wants.”

Sansa hit Arya with a pillow. “Too much information!”

Arya grinned salaciously, then narrowed her eyes in contemplation as she regarded her sister. “I should set you up on a date. I know a few single guys.”

Sansa made a face. “Gods, Arya, I only just moved up here, and it’s only been a few months since I broke up with Joffrey. Dating is the last thing I want to do.”

“We can look after Kat on any date nights,” Arya continued blithely. “She’d love a sleepover with Auntie Arya and Uncle Gendry while Mummy is off getting some action.”

“You are terrible. Kat and I are happy now. We don’t need to risk adding another person into the mix.”

“Well at least sex. Forget the dating part.” Arya leaned forward to grasp her wine glass, then toasted Sansa with it.

Sansa whacked her sister with the pillow again, careful to avoid her drink. “Arya!”

Arya shrugged unrepentantly. “You can’t be celibate forever, Sansypants. And I bet Joffrey was rubbish in bed.”

The older woman groaned theatrically. “I can’t believe we are having this conversation.”

Arya stared intently at her, eyebrows raised questioningly. “Well?”

Sansa scowled and took a long drink of her wine. “I don’t have anyone to compare Joffrey to. How would I know?”

“If you have to ask, then it was rubbish,” Arya said knowingly.

Sansa scrunched up her nose in consideration. Sex had mainly been something that kept Joffrey happy. She’d never got any particular enjoyment from the act but hadn’t actively disliked it. “I can hardly remember anyway, the last time he ever touched me like that was when I was pregnant with Kat and started showing. He said I was too fat for him.”

Arya’s jaw dropped. “I already fucking hated him, but I actually hate him more now. I can’t believe that’s possible, but there we are.”

Sansa felt herself flush with embarrassment. Twenty-six years old and she was still a novice when it came to matters of sex. “It’s not important.”

Arya looked sceptical but dropped the subject. “Are you ready to watch another episode of ‘Playing for Keeps’? I don’t want to keep you up too late, old lady.”

Sansa poked her tongue out, relieved to move past her failure at relationships. “Not that much older than you, short stuff. Anyway, yes, I’m enjoying the show. I wish Susan would stand up to the King and his awful family though.”

“Yeah she’s a bit of a struggle in season one. Don’t worry, she has an incredible character arc. By season eight she’s a politically savvy badass.”

Sansa hummed in contemplation. “I like Anna, she’s fierce. Oh, and Stephen, the way he helped Susan when she was thinking about pushing King Jeremy off the ledge below Edmund’s severed head, that was amazing. Stephen is so deep and troubled, but with hidden depths.”

“Anna’s the best character,” said Arya. “What girl wouldn’t want to learn sword fighting? Weird as shit names they all have though, people are always misspelling them on the internet.”

Arya’s phone lit up and howled like a wolf to indicate another SMS. She flicked it up from the coffee table with her big toe and neatly caught it without having to change position on Sansa’s couch.

“That’s so lazy,” said Sansa.

Arya silently raised her middle finger to her big sister as she read the new message. Sansa laughed.

“This one’s from Ygritte,” said the younger woman. “We’re all booked in again to see Sandor on Saturday. She said, and I’m quoting her here, that she ‘lectured the huge fucker about being a grumpy bastard’. So he’ll be on his best behaviour.”

Sansa cringed with embarrassment and shook her head, thinking of her actions last time she was at the vet clinic.

Arya poked her gently in the arm. “None of that, Sans, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Anyway, I told Sandor a little about your past before I rebooked you in to meet him.”

Sansa’s mortification deepened. “Arya! That’s private. He’ll hate me.”

“Sandor’s an ass, but he wouldn’t judge you over that shit. I wanted him to understand why you ran.”

Sansa frowned. “Please don’t go around telling everyone my business, Arya. I don’t want people to think I’m a spineless loser before they even know me.”

Arya held both her hands up. “Okay, my bad. I won’t do it again. Though you need to stop being so self critical. If you call yourself a loser again, I’ll tell everyone how you cried during that puffin documentary we all saw last weekend.”

Sansa gave an unladylike snort, then picked up the remote control. “I can’t help it if puffins are really cute.” She squinted at the television as she located the correct streaming service for the show, then smiled at her sister. “Anyway, your big blabby mouth aside, I’m glad you suggested watching this together.”

“Yeah, there is plenty to keep us busy for Sister Bonding Time. I’ve been watching the new episodes in season eight with Gendry and it’s a clusterfuck of them trying to rush through to the end of the story. It’s nice to re-watch the early stuff, which is much closer to the original books, anyway.”

Sansa drained her glass of wine then stood up; she was feeling nicely buzzed. “Would you like a cup of tea before we start? I’ve had enough wine for tonight.”

Arya finished hers and set it on the table with a satisfied sigh. “Yes please.”

Sansa bustled about in the little kitchen. “I hope we get to see more of the Smith family wild cats in this episode.”

“Enjoy them while they last,” Arya said. “They hardly appear in later seasons. Not enough money in the budget for both CGI cats and Diana’s fucking giant CGI pigeons. Mother of Pigeons in-fucking-deed.”

“I heard a bunch of people named their children ‘Diana’ after that character. Poor kids, they’ll be spelling their names aloud for the rest of their lives.”

“Worse, some people have named the kid ‘Captain’ after the title the character gets after her marriage. By the gods, they’ll be regretting that after watching season eight,” Arya said darkly.

“No spoilers!” said Sansa, bringing both mugs of tea back through, and settling in with her sister for another episode of ‘Playing for Keeps’.   

 

***

 

The following Saturday, the women greeted the robust young man who sat behind the desk of the Winter town Veterinary Clinic and Dog Shelter.

“Hey Hot Pie,” said Arya. “Sansa, this is Hot Pie, he works weekends so Ygritte can get a break from wanting to murder Sandor. Hot Pie, this is my sister Sansa.”

“I’ve heard your name before,” said Sansa after greeting the man, trying to recall where that had been the case. She grinned when she remembered. “Gnome wizard! You are Gendry’s friend.”

Hot Pie smiled, then his face fell. “Former gnome wizard. That bastard Gendry let me die. Got my brain melted by psionics.”

Arya coughed into her fist, something that sounded distinctly like “geeks.”

“My new character concept is slutty elven bard,” said Hot Pie, recovering some of his good humour. “One who draws her magical powers by reciting epic poetry.”

“Oh, that sounds…” Sansa searched for a polite response. “…ah, fun?”

Arya made a rude noise in the back of her throat and dragged Sansa away to sit in the waiting room. The clinic had the same antiseptic smell as on her previous visit, which threatened to prove too much of a reminder of her panic. Sansa jiggled her leg nervously and focused on her breathing exercises to maintain calm.

Sandor came through the same door as last time. Arya took her hand and squeezed encouragingly.

“And there’s our favourite halfling barbarian,” said Hot Pie, smiling fondly at Sandor. “He got a plus five two-handed axe last game. We are all in awe of his massive plus to hit now.”

“Fuck off, you gnome cunt,” Sandor muttered, shooting Hot Pie a glare.

“Hey you big fucker,” Arya said, standing up. She only came up to about chest height on the large vet. “Gendry mentioned you’d been going along to the role-playing sessions.”

“Wolf Girl,” rumbled the vet, giving her a nod. “And we don’t discuss the role-playing.”

“Your soliloquy about the nature of the halfling afterlife bought us all to tears last game,” Hot Pie murmured from behind the desk. “I’ve never seen Beric so overcome.”

Sandor’s unburned cheek went pink, but he didn’t acknowledge the receptionist.

Sansa stood up too. Her anxiety was there, but it was under control for the moment. “Nice to meet you, ah, again Mr Clegane,” she said politely, holding out her hand towards him.

“Mr Clegane was my father,” he said, scowling a little. “You can call me Sandor.” He took Sansa’s hand and shook it. His hands were calloused, large and warm and his handshake firm.  

Their father had always stressed the importance of a firm handshake, and made the Stark children practice them. He’d have liked Sandor’s, which appeared to have come straight from the Ned Stark handshake playbook. He’d have hated Joffrey’s, which was about as firm as a flaccid Iron Islands squid.

Sansa realised she was still holding Sandor’s hand, and that he was looking at her quizzically.

“Yes, well,” she squeaked, dropping his hand. “Thank you for seeing me again. I apologise for my actions last week.”

“My fault,” he said. “My temper gets the better of me sometimes. I can be a rude fucker.”

Sansa was relieved that he didn’t acknowledge that Arya had told him about her history with Joff.

“You’re a cunt,” said Arya, grinning up at him. “But we still love you.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, then moved towards the staff area of the building. “Follow me,” he said over his shoulder.

He led them through the immaculately clean and tidy clinic and out to the area at the back of the complex.

The fluffy black cat from last time, Stranger, trotted over to them with a cheerful chirp. Sansa cringed at the memory of the blasphemous name but bent down to pat the animal.

“Piss off cat,” Sandor muttered, surprisingly gently.

“You rescue cats too?” asked Sansa, scratching under Stranger’s chin.

“Just Stranger,” said Sandor. “The feral cunt showed up at my back door one day and never left.”

“You love it,” said Arya. “You’re an animal-loving do-gooder trapped in the body of an angry bastard.”

“Fuck off,” Sandor replied without heat.

Sansa gave Stranger a final pat, then stood up and followed the others to where the dogs were housed.

A series of tall, human height kennels lined one edge of a large yard. The cages backed up against a building, and they contained a variety of dogs of all shapes and sizes.

“Podrick, you cockwomble,” called Sandor. “What are you doing? Time to let the hounds out for their exercise.”

A dark-haired young man with a kind face came from the building behind the kennels, carrying a large bale of hay. “Sorry Sandor, I got distracted,” he muttered.

Arya shot the man a saucy grin. “Hey Pod. How’s the new character? Crossbow wielding half-elf paladin was a bold choice.”

Pod started to reply to Arya, but looked up at the women, squeaked at the sight of Sansa, dropped the hay bale in alarm and scurried off around the side of the kennels.

The others seemed unperturbed by this behaviour, so Sansa politely ignored it. “I’m impressed you remember so much about their game,” she said to Arya.

Arya rolled her eyes. “If you live with Gendry, it’s inescapable. Though I don’t know why they agreed to let Varys be the DM, all they do is complain that he keeps bending the rules.”

“DM?”

“Dungeon Master, he runs the sessions. They need a strong hand. Someone needs to keep Beric’s fire obsessed tiefling sorcerer in check.”

“Alright,” growled Sandor, “enough about that fucking game. Bad enough Beric talked me into playing with that bunch of cunts, don’t need to think about it unless I have to. Wait here, I’ll fetch the pup I had in mind for the ginger.” He nodded at Sansa, then strode towards the building where Pod had exited.

Arya gave a speculative hum. “I think you’ve impressed the big guy.”

Sansa was wide eyed. “How can you tell?”

“He’s hardly sworn at all around you,” said Arya. “He’s making good on his promise to be on his best behaviour.”

Sansa raised her eyebrows. “That was hardly swearing?”

Arya nodded vigorously. “Oh yes.”

Sandor came back out cradling a puppy in his arms. It was joyfully licking his beard, and he looked like he was trying to supress a smile. “We rescued her from a puppy farm a few weeks back and nursed her back to health. We think she’s a purebred Skagosian husky.”

The puppy had dainty features. Her fur was a beautiful pale silver along her back and on the top of her head, and white everywhere else.

“She’s a sweet natured little bitch,” said Sandor, passing the puppy to Sansa. “The right temperament to be good around you and your kid.”

“Oh, she’s perfect,” whispered Sansa, holding the joyfully wiggling puppy. She knelt on the ground to gently set the little dog down. The puppy’s entire back end wagged along with her plumy tail, and she tried to clamber back on Sansa’s lap.

“I think it’s love, Sans,” said Arya, far more mildly than usual.

Sansa beamed happily up at Sandor. “When can I take her?”

“Tomorrow,” he said gruffly. “First thing in the morning, if you want.”

Sansa nodded agreement. “I would like to name her Lady.”

Arya laughed. “Of course you do. That’s possibly the most Sansa pet name you could come up with.”

Sansa stood back up, letting Lady roll around on the ground in glee. “How much do I owe you for her?”

“Nothing.” Sandor jerked his head toward Arya. “Your pain in the ass sister has already covered it.”

“Arya no,” said Sansa, putting her hand over her mouth. “You’ve already done so much for Kat and I.”

“No big deal. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives, and we Starks are in this life together, big sister.” Arya gave her a broad smile. “This big bastard gave me a hefty discount, anyway.”

Sansa felt tears prickle her eyes. “Thank you both,” she said, her voice breaking.

Sandor looked like he’d rather escape. “Aye, got to give the pup to someone, may as well be you,” he muttered.

Arya took her arm. “Come on, let’s go and get some puppy supplies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters took over and pretty much did what they wanted to do in this chapter, but I had fun with it! Also I’ve never written so much swearing in my life, haha.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, the characters decided the story needed to go in a different direction than I had intended and so I had to rejig my plans a bit!

Lady wagged the entire back end of her body as Sansa bent down to kiss the top of her head.

“It’s time for me to go to work and Kat to go to daycare, but we’ll be home again before you know it,” she said to the pup. “And Uncle Gendry will be in to check on you soon.”

Kat toddled over and delicately placed a kiss on Lady’s head. “Bye Dee,” she whispered to the puppy. She giggled as she patted Lady and the pup tried to lick her face.

“Remember Kat, use your gentle hands with Lady,” said Sansa, ruffling her daughter’s soft curls.

“’Es Mumma,” she replied, stroking Lady’s ears.

They’d collected Lady from a cheerful red headed veterinarian named Tormund, who apparently worked Sundays at the clinic so Sandor could take one day off a week. Hot Pie had given them a ‘puppy pack’ of basic supplies and information pamphlets.

Lady had settled in well with their little family. Sandor had been correct in his estimation of her temperament as she was a gentle dog, always well behaved and polite.

Sansa tossed Lady her little dragon-shaped squeaky dog toy. The puppy jumped on it with glee, picking it up and trotting over to the kitchen where it wheezed sad squeaks as she chewed it vigorously.

Kat’s face fell, and she stared at the contentedly chewing Lady with tears in her eyes. “Mine!” she said urgently, pointing at the dragon.

“No that’s Lady’s toy. Here, why don’t you cuddle WahWah instead?” Sansa retrieved Kat’s toy wolf and waved it in front of her daughter.

Lady’s toy dragon emitted a tragic sounding squeak, and the tears began to roll down Kat’s face. “Dany,” she whispered in a heartbroken voice.

Sansa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with the hand that wasn’t holding WahWah. “That’s not a Dany and the Sparkle Dragons dragon, Catelyn. It’s just a dog toy dragon, see? It’s pink. None of Dany’s singing dragons are pink.”

There was a pause while Kat’s lower lip quivered dangerously.

Lady’s pink dragon made a shrill squawk again.

“DANY,” Kat screeched, clenching her fists and screwing up her face.

Sansa looked over at the clock and grimaced, taking a deep breath to squash her annoyance. “Okay Kitty Kat, we need to drop you off to see Miss Gilly.”

Kat’s cheeks were now bright red under her mop of ginger curls. Sansa put WahWah on the bench,  scooped the toddler under her arm and grabbed their bags with her free hand. She glanced at the stroller sitting beside the door but dismissed the idea of trying to buckle in the now thrashing child. She managed to lock the front door and hurried towards Arya’s house and the path to Sam and Gilly’s house.

Sansa paused for a moment, adjusting her grip on her furious daughter who wailed pitifully in between shouts of “DANY”. Arya, Gendry and Sandor all stood beside Arya’s truck, deep in conversation. A large motorbike had been parked nearby. Sandor wore a shirt which did nothing to disguise his strong physique. He’d rolled up the sleeves revealing his hairy and muscular forearms. He stood tall and very large and the total and utter opposite of Joffrey. She wasn’t ready to date anyone, but Arya’s advice that she could find someone to have sex with came back to her unbidden. Sansa had never given serious consideration to having a relationship that was purely sexual in nature, but looking at the well-built veterinarian, it suddenly became a more appealing concept.

She shook herself and resumed her walk, attempting to pretend she wasn’t holding her squalling child like a rugby ball under her arm. “Good morning all,” she said as they reached the truck, trying very hard not to blush when a slightly frowning Sandor looked her up and down. He probably just wondered what was happening with Kat.

“Morning Sansypants,” said Arya before taking a large sip of the contents of the mug she held. She grimaced. “Ugh, your coffee brewing skills need some improvement, dear boyfriend.”

Gendry rolled his eyes but ignored Arya. “Hi Sansa, hi Kat,” he said, smiling at them both.

“Morning,” Sandor mumbled.

Arya leaned over and plucked Kat from Sansa’s grasp, gathering her up and giving the toddler’s red and blotchy face a kiss. “And there’s my favourite human niece.”

Naturally Kat stopped fussing and graced Arya with a wide smile.

“Yaya! Dendy!” said Kat, instantly cheerful. “Hi!”

Gendry ruffled her curls. “Good to see you Kitty Kat. Anyway, I need to get going, I’m already late because of the coffee making.” Gendry pecked Arya on the cheek and headed off.

Arya swivelled Kat around to face Sandor, who tilted his head forward so more of his hair fell over the scars on his face. Sansa felt a pang of sympathy for how clearly self-conscious he was about his appearance. The scars were awful, but she didn’t think they diminished his overall appeal, his intense physicality.

“Look Kat,” said Arya, “this big fu… ah, this big man is Sandor. Do you remember him? He scared your Mummy the first time you met.”

“Arya!” exclaimed Sansa, feeling heat flood her cheeks in embarrassment.

Sandor shook his head. “Nice one, Wolf Girl. Teach the kid about all the bad men in the world.”

Kat gazed unblinkingly at Sandor. “Hi Dodo,” she said in her soft voice.

Arya snorted a laugh. “Nice to meet you, Dodo.” She gave Sandor a broad grin.

“You’re a little shit,” he said to Arya.

“Don’t swear in front of my favourite human kid, Dodo.” Arya flashed him another winning smile.

He growled low in the back of his throat and Sansa’s knees went wobbly as a stab of arousal shot through her at the noise. She squeaked involuntarily. Arya stared at her consideringly.

Sansa pretended that hadn’t just happened and moved beside Arya and Kat, taking Kat’s hand. “Can you say Sandor?” said Sansa to her daughter, avoiding Sandor’s scowl. “San-dor?”

“Dodo!” replied Kat, beaming at Sandor.

He stared at the little girl, then gave her a small smile in return.

Kat squealed with joy. “Nice,” she said distinctly, pointing at the big man.

Arya snorted. “My flesh and blood, with such poor taste. Let’s see how nice you are when we get to the wolf colony, Doctor Clegane.”

Sandor scowled. “If I’m not nice it’s because you drive like a fucking maniac in that truck. I take my life in my hands every time I go to the colony with you.”

Kat was still staring intently at Sandor, clearly mesmerised by his every word.

“Stop swearing in front of my niece, Dodo. And I’m a great driver, tell him Sansa.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Yes Arya, you are a good driver. A little too fast though.”

“Well you drive like Old Nan,” replied Arya.

“Old Nan was a very safe driver,” Sansa responded indignantly. “I feel honoured that she taught me to drive.”

“Only because she’d shrunk too much to see over the steering wheel by that stage, and you’re huge.”

“At least I don’t need my own personal step ladder in my kitchen,” Sansa retorted.

Arya poked her tongue out. “That’s a low blow for a giantess. How’s the weather up there, big girl?”

“Better than it is down there at sea level,” said Sansa.

Kat looked between her Aunt and her mother, wide eyed and fascinated.

“Have you two children finished bickering?” Sandor interjected, “We need to head off to the colony, I have a clinic to get back to. Some of us have proper jobs instead of fucking about in the forest all day.”

“Says the guy who regularly puts his arm up a cow’s vagina for work,” said Arya.

Sandor raised his middle finger in Arya’s direction without changing his facial expression or deigning to comment.

Sansa’s eyes focused on his large hands, suddenly remembering what the girls in high school used to say about men with big hands and feet. Her gaze drifted down to Sandor’s feet, which were encased in sturdy work boots and indeed sizable. Very sizable. She realised no one had said anything for several seconds, and that Sandor was looking back at her. Arya smirked.

She jumped as Arya passed Kat to her. She automatically shifted Kat to perch on her hip, kissing the little girl on the forehead as she did so.

“Dany,” whispered Kat mutinously.

“Ahh, we must get going too, I hope you all have a nice day at work.” Sansa deemed it wise to make a quick exit after twice being caught staring at Sandor. Mercifully, her anxiety levels were staying low.

Kat waved goodbye to Sandor and Arya as they set off to walk the short distance to the house where Gilly ran her childcare business.

 

***

 

After a busy morning at work, Davos had invited Sansa to eat lunch in the Winterfell kitchens. She found the resident Archivist Sam in there, who sat wide eyed as Davos and Stannis debated the qualities of the food Stannis was preparing.

Stannis waved an onion at his husband. “If I am going to do something, I’m going to do it correctly.”

“They are just onions, Stannis,” said Davos, “I don’t think the soup will mind how you slice them. Ahh, greetings Sansa.”

“That is the kind of talk that leads to disarray,” Stannis muttered. “And a poor quality of soup.”

Sansa said her helloes and perched next to Sam on one of the tall stools that someone had placed beside a bench. There was an array of food there, including small bread rolls filled with what looked like roast beef and lettuce salad, sausage rolls, cherry tomatoes stuffed with a soft cheese, and large slabs of bacon and egg pie.  

Sam saluted her with a wedge of the pie and mumbled a greeting.

“How did your first solo tour group go?” asked Davos, abandoning his husband and the contentious onions in favour of talking to her and Sam.

“It was fun,” said Sansa, helping herself to a bread roll and three cherry tomatoes. “The people were really interested in learning about Winterfell’s history and they were all super nice.”

“Oh, you’re lucky they were interested,” said Sam after he’d swallowed his mouthful. “I always end up with people who get bored with the tour.”

Stannis came over too, wiping his hands on his apron. He took a sausage roll and shook it at Sam. “You have got to stop taking tours around the historical land deed management archives, Tarly.”

“But it’s very interesting. They had a whole system of interconnected tithing systems related to potential income streams and farming output.” Sam smiled fondly, cheered up by this recollection. “Not many people seemed to enjoy learning about it though.”

Davos and Stannis exchanged a glance, apparently having had this conversation with the Archivist before.

“It does sound interesting, Sam,” said Sansa soothingly. “I’d love you to show me sometime. I knew it existed, but it was always something my Dad had an interest in, not me or my brothers and sister.”

Sam’s face flushed red, but he smiled and nodded. “It was a very sustainable system, and helped people survive through each winter.”

“Winter is coming,” murmured Sansa reflexively. A pang of loss swept over her as she thought of her father. She wondered what he’d think of them turning the main Winterfell buildings over to the Westerosi Historical Society. He would understand, she thought. Sansa had been the oldest sibling left after Robb was killed in the same car accident as her parents, and she’d only been a teenager when it happened. Their orphaned cousin Jon had been raised with them, but he was only a bare handful of years older than her. Between her and Jon they looked after the younger children and managed the estate as well as they could, but it had already been in debt and disrepair.

“We’ve been thinking of getting some ‘Winter is Coming’ printed t-shirts for the gift shop.” Davos’ voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Bloody tacky,” said Stannis darkly.

“That sounds…” Sansa paused, trying to think of something positive to say. If there was anything she learned from her Mother, it was the value of good manners. “That sounds very creative.”

“And wolf themed bottle openers,” said Davos proudly.

Stannis made a rude noise.

The sound of a motorbike starting up from outside made them all look up.

“Sandor must have finished the wolf checkup,” said Sansa.

Sam helped himself to several of the stuffed tomatoes. “You met him? He scares me.”

Davos gave a dismissive hand gesture. “He’s alright. Bark is worse than his bite. He does good work with those dogs in the shelter.”

Stannis grunted. “We got Melisandre off him.”

“I have a photo of our lovely girl,” said Davos, brightening considerably. “If I can find it on this wretched device.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it.

Sansa took a mouthful of her bread roll. It tasted delicious, the bread crusty on the outside and fluffy in the middle, and the meat and salad were in perfect proportion.

“Ahh here we go.” Davos held his phone so Sansa could see it. “She’s a Ghiscari hound.”

“One of those hairy dogs?” asked Sam, moving so he could view the screen too.

Melisandre did indeed have a lot of hair. It was a sandy golden colour and hung long all over her rangy frame. She had a lengthy snout and intelligent eyes.

Sansa smiled at the photo then at Davos. “She’s beautiful. You must be so proud.”

“She must take a lot of work.” Sam paused as both the other men glared at him. “But, um, it looks like you both keep her well maintained.”

Davos gazed at the photo and grinned happily. “Sandor was about to order young Podrick to shave her when we showed up looking for a new dog. It was love at first sight. She’s a fiery girl, full of spirit.”

The sound of the motorbike faded into the distance.

Davos put his phone away and looked at his wristwatch. “Alright folks, we’ve got a group coming in five minutes. Sansa, have you finished your lunch?”

Sansa stood up, ready to go back to work. “Yes, all finished. That was delicious, thank you Stannis.”

Stannis gave her a vague hand wave as he jumped off his stool and went to check the soup as the rest of them returned to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - Melisandre the dog is what we would call an Afghan hound.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter still fits the M rating (mind the updated tags though), but it will be getting raised to E soonish!

Someone moved languidly above her. Sansa stirred and wiggled with pleasure. Her bed was warm and comfortable, she could feel that for certain, but as awareness dawned Sansa realised she was naked. Did that mean Joffrey’s body was the one intimately tangled with hers? Doesn’t seem like him, she realised after a few more seconds of awareness. The person was far too big, and she felt safe and loved.

Ghostly lips drifted down her body as the person moved down the bed. No, not Joffrey. She lived in Winterfell now, didn’t she? She had come home, away from the horror of her past.

A bristly beard scratched the sensitive skin of her inner thigh as the person kissed her there. A man then. A large man, she amended as he lifted her legs up over his broad shoulders.

She felt like she floated on the bed, warm and soft and safe. Cloaked in darkness and affection for the person who now had his face between her thighs. She waited for the embarrassment to arrive, for him to tell her she smelled and tasted disgusting down there. Instead, the man kissed her most intimate parts, exploring every crevice of her with his tongue. She drifted on the pleasure, her world narrowing down to the flick of his tongue against her, the slickness as he swirled it over her clit. She found her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him harder against her as she wantonly moaned her pleasure. His lips curled up in a smile, but then he resumed his attentions and she whimpered. Her peak approached with sharp certainty and his movements and the sensation became the most important things in the world. She drifted some more, coasting on the burning pleasure between her legs.

She cried out as she came hard against his tongue and he gave a groan of satisfaction. He raised his head a little; she moved her hands down to stroke his skin and she touched the raised scars of old burns on one side of his face. Sandor.

Sansa opened her eyes and awoke into the muggy light of dawn, still shaking from her climax. She’d never reached her peak like that before, without even touching herself.

She pushed her hair off her face. It felt like a fright, all tangled and frizzed. She must have been moving her head a lot, thrashing in her sleep. The memory of why she might have been thrashing didn’t fade at all. By the Seven it had been good. Her imagination had done a remarkable job of supplying details of feelings she’d either forgotten or never experienced. Could she ever experience pleasure like that in real life? 

She flopped back onto her pillow and huffed a breath.

Why did she dream about Sandor using his mouth like that? She knew that people did that, or course, but had never experienced it. Joffrey had always said the whole concept sickened him, though he had no objections to her taking him into her mouth. Sansa had never considered she’d been missing anything major, but that dream told her something quite different.

Sansa focused on calming her breathing.

She didn’t even know that much about Sandor. Was he even single? Arya hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend or wife, or boyfriend or husband for that matter, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Sansa felt sick about the idea she might have had a sex dream about someone who was currently curled up in bed with their significant other. Her anxiety started to rise. She shut her eyes and focused on grounding herself. She experienced the weight of the blankets on the bed, the softness of the pillow below her head, the elastic band of her pajama pants digging into her waist. The scent of the lavender oil in her bedside burner. Birdsong from the old godswood outside her window.

She’d hardly ever talked to the man. Where had the dream come from? Sansa huffed an annoyed breath at her brain for going rogue. Sandor had a certain quality about him though. She got the impression he was self-conscious about his appearance and covered for that by being harsh and abrupt. Burns had clearly disfigured his face, but the un-scarred half was attractive. His body was big, strong and muscular and particularly appealing. Sansa found herself humming in appreciation as she thought about him, but then caught herself and shook her head. People’s opinions of him seemed to be that he was grouchy with people but kind to animals. He obviously worked very hard running the vet clinic and the dog shelter and refused to take any money for helping Arya with her wolves. He appeared to be somewhat older than her, but probably only by a decade or so.

Before Joffrey Sansa’s type had been men like him, a kind of pale, wispy beauty, golden and perfect. Sandor could not be more different, and Sansa found she was glad of it.

“I don’t even want to get involved with anyone,” she muttered aloud, her words loud in the silent house even at a murmur.

There was the potential option of a sex-only relationship, said a small voice that sounded suspiciously like Arya. She frowned at the voice, but the memory of her dream sat strongly in her mind.

She huffed another breath. Her body was still languid and tingly, but Kat would be awake soon whether her mother had experienced inappropriate dreams about their local vet or not.

 

***

 

“Morning Sansa.” Ygritte looked up from her work as Sansa, Kat and Lady walked into the Winter town Veterinary Clinic.

Sansa smiled to see the huge black cat Stranger sprawled asleep across the length of the reception desk. “Hi Ygritte.”

Ygritte sat up straighter in her chair, absently giving Stranger a pat. “You bought the little lass again. Would she come to me for a cuddle?”

“She should do,” Sansa replied, smiling. “She’s usually quite placid.”

Ygritte grinned and hurried around the front desk into the public area. She crouched down in front of Kat and took her tiny hand. “Hello sweetling.”

Sansa leaned down to unbuckle the stroller straps around Kat. “Kat, this is Ygritte. She’s Auntie Arya’s friend.”

“Beautiful girl, kissed by fire,” said the receptionist, ruffling Kat’s auburn curls.

Kat seemed to struggle with Ygritte’s name. She pursed her lips. “Tit?” Kat said eventually.

Ygritte laughed as she picked Kat up. “Aye, close enough.”

Tormund came through the staff only door and gave the women and Kat a broad grin. “Well would you look at this.” He had a loud voice and a majestic ginger beard. Stranger grumbled in his sleep at the influx of noise. “All of us kissed by fire. This has to be the luckiest vet clinic in all of Westeros.”

Sansa pulled gently on Lady’s leash so she’d stop sniffing the cat and stay beside her owner. “Kissed by fire, Ygritte just mentioned the same thing.”

“Of course. We both have free folk ancestry,” he said, inclining his head towards Ygritte, who was now holding Kat so she could pat a grumpy Stranger. “In our culture red heads are rare and the tribe considers that we bring good luck.”

“That’s a lovely way to looking at it,” Sansa said warmly. “I must remember that.”

Sandor came through the same door as Tormund, carrying several folders which he dumped onto the nearest bench. Stranger gave up trying to sleep and jumped off the desk, stalking over to the waiting area where he started grooming vigorously.

Tormund gave Sandor a hearty clap on the shoulder. “Look at us all in the one place, Sandor. All we lucky gingers. You should buy a lottery ticket after being in the same room as us!”

Sandor rolled his eyes. “Fuck off Tormund. You ready?” He looked at Sansa.

Kat squealed with excitement. “HI DODO,” she said, beaming at the vet.

“Hey kid,” he muttered in reply. Ygritte looked like she was trying to stifle a laugh. Tormund had no such compunction and grinned broadly at the name Kat had bestowed upon Sandor.

Seeing Sandor in person made the heat pool between Sansa’s legs and her fingers tingle. The dream had felt so real, it was jarring to think her overactive imagination had cooked it all up. If nothing else she could use the time they would be alone to get to know him better, figure out why her brain had picked Sandor to fantasise about.

That approach decided, Sansa ruthlessly supressed her feelings and nodded politely to Sandor. “Yes we’re ready,” she said, looking down at Lady who watched proceedings with interest.

“I’ll keep this little darlin’ with me if you like? She’s better company than these big ugly mugs.” Ygritte’s gaze flicked between the two vets. She cuddled Kat closer and Tormund smiled fondly at them both.

Sansa nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back soon Kitty Kat.”

“Bye Mumma. BYE DODO.” Kat waved enthusiastically, then turned her attention back to the far more interesting people who were fussing over her.

Sansa laughed and took Lady through to the examination room, then lifted her onto the table, suppressing an unladylike grunt from the effort. Lady was getting large, even in the short time she’d been with Sansa and Kat.

They stood on either side of the examination table, with Lady wiggling with excitement on the bench between them.

“She’s a big bitch.”

Sansa blinked and looked up at Sandor. “Sorry?”

His expression was usually hard to read, but this time his lips twitched up a little in apparent amusement. “The pup. She’s big for her age.”

“Oh. Ah yes.”

He seemed content to examine Lady without making further conversation. She watched Sandor, trying to think of something intelligent to say. Getting to know him better would not work if she stood mute and awkward.

Sansa licked her lips nervously. “So.”

“So.” Sandor’s lips twitched upwards again, though he kept his eyes on where he inspected Lady’s hips and back legs. He was very gentle with her, taking her paws and examining them. His hands looked strong, and Sansa found it mesmerising watching them. Lady was excited to see him, wagging her tail and trying to lick his beard. “Calm the fuck down,” he said to Lady, actually smiling at the puppy this time. Sansa had never heard anyone swear affectionately before.

Sansa looked around the room. Someone has tacked various posters to the wall, featuring happy looking animals frolicking in meadows. As far as she could gather, they advertised flea treatments, which seemed rather depressing. “Why did you become a vet?” she blurted.

He glanced at her briefly. “My family were shit. I always preferred the company of animals. Got a scholarship to veterinary college and got the fuck away from them. Now here I am.” He shrugged.

“That’s amazing, you’ve done really well for yourself.”

He snorted, though it didn’t seem too derisive. “If you say so, girl. Help me hold the pup still.”

Sansa obliged as Sandor opened the packets holding the doses of Lady’s puppy vaccinations.

She studied him as he worked. She still found it odd seeing him in person after her dream. He was absorbed in his work, so she examined his face more closely. There was no getting around the damage to his face, but she didn’t find it repellent. Once she had thought beauty was important, something to admire, but if her life had taught her anything it was that great beauty could hide great evil.

He removed the syringe from the back of Lady’s neck and regarded Sansa. They stood close enough that she could see his eye colour. His eyes were grey, just like a stormy sky. “You done staring?” he said, arching the eyebrow he had left.

Sansa grimaced apologetically. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

He made a dismissive gesture. “Everyone stares. Why do you think I like animals so much? They don’t give a fuck.”

“That doesn’t make it not rude,” Sansa replied, frowning.

Sandor smiled, though this one was more a baring of teeth behind his dark beard. “You want to stare at my face, then stare at my face. It’s ugly as fuck.”

It hurt to hear Sandor talk about himself that way. “I don’t find you ugly at all,” she blurted. Lady looked between the two of them and whined.

He snorted in disbelief. “Then you need your eyes checked.”

This wasn’t going how Sansa intended. She stroked Lady’s ears as she gathered her thoughts. “I think it’s great how you help Arya with the wolves.”

“You’re certainly different to your sister.” He sounded sardonically amused.

Sansa blinked. “Well, ah yes. We didn’t get along so well as children, but we are close now. I was a jerk, she was a brat. I like to believe we’ve both improved with age.”

Sandor paused and looked Sansa up and down. “You’re like a little bird, always chirping and chatting. Wolf Girl doesn’t talk much when we are with the pack.”

Sansa’s body tingled as he regarded her. She laughed weakly. “Get Arya on the subject of people who want to hunt wolves for sport, she’ll never shut up.”

Sandor grunted and looked back at Lady as he carefully opened the pup’s mouth and examined her teeth.

“Do you have any siblings?” Sansa asked, stroking Lady’s back to soothe both of them.

“I told you my family were shit,” he said sharply.

Sansa felt her cheeks flush. The sexy dream was receding further and further away. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered, anxiety make her chest heavy, “of course you did.” She glanced involuntarily at the door, judging the distance from where she stood. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He gave her a long look. “Don’t fucking run away, Little Bird, I would never hurt you. Men that hurt women deserve to be fucking shot.” He petted Lady and sighed. “I have a brother, he’s a mean cunt. In prison now and good fucking riddance.”

His words about never hurting her made a small flicker of… something… burn inside of her. She took a breath and paused, searching for a polite response to hearing someone’s sibling was imprisoned. “I’m sorry your brother isn’t a nice person.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Here, take your pup. She’s healthy but you’ll need to bring her back in two weeks for her next shots. Better go get your kid before those Wildlings have her dancing in the snow or whatever shit they are in to.”

The little flicker still burned, and she nodded mutely.

He rolled his eyes at her. “See you next time, Little Bird.”

 

***

 

Sansa scowled at her phone. She’d opened the message app and selected Arya’s name. It felt like if she asked the question she had in mind then her idea would become real, but she had to know in case her stupid crush or whatever it was needed to stop here and now. She sighed and typed out her message to Arya and pressed send, throwing the phone on the couch afterwards as if it had burned her.

 

**Sansa [7.34pm] – Hey is Sandor single?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh the good ol’ sexy dream sequence. Welcome to OrangeTabby’s House of Tropes :D 
> 
> Also, I googled details about husky puppies for this chapter and it made me so happy. Recently, for my other WIPs (in the Dragon Age fandom) I’ve had to google trench foot, sexually transmitted infections, death in childbirth and goat midwifery. Husky puppies turned out to be easily the most enjoyable, haha.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short and sweet chapter today!

**Sansa [7.34pm] – Hey is Sandor single?**

**Arya [7.35pm] – Wut the actual fuck.**

**Sansa [7.35pm] – …**

**Arya [7.35pm] – Sandor. Sandor the vet?**

**Sansa [7.36pm] – How many Sandors do you know? Yes, the vet.**

**Arya [7.36pm] – WHY ARE YOU ASKING IF SANDOR THE VET IS SINGLE???????!**

**Sansa [7.36pm] – I’m just asking! Do you know the answer or not?**

**Arya [7.38pm] – I told Gendry and his choking on his orange juice. U R MAKING MY BF CHOKE SANSA.**

**Sansa [7.38pm] – Ugh. Can you give me Ygritte’s number? I’ll ask her instead.**

**Arya [7.38pm] – NO. No! Thats it, Im coming over to urs. THIS IS AN INTERVENTION.**

 

 

Sansa leaned back on the couch and sighed. Thirty seconds later the front door burst open and a wild-eyed Arya rushed in. She and Gendry had obviously been eating dinner because she was clutching her phone in one hand and a half-eaten chicken drumstick in the other.

Sansa held up her hand to quell any potential tirade. “I just asked if he was single Arya, it’s pretty basic information to ask about someone.”

Arya waved the drumstick in the air. “But SANDOR? He’s so grumpy!”

Sansa made a shushing motion. “Not so loud, you’ll wake Kat up. Anyway, I thought you two were friends?”

Lady raised her head from where she’d been sleeping on the dog bed beside the couch. Arya flung her phone onto the couch then pulled a chunk of meat off the bone and tossed it to the puppy who ate it happily. “That doesn’t mean he’s not a big ugly grumpy fucker.” Arya paused and took a bite of chicken, continuing with her mouth full. “In fact he’s probably grumpier being friends with me than he would be otherwise.”

“Don’t call him ugly,” said Sansa, scowling at her sister. “He isn’t, he’s very… large. And… striking.” She smiled as she pictured the imposing figure of Sandor Clegane.

Arya gasped and took a theatrical step backwards. “I know that look on your face. That’s the same expression you get whenever anyone gives you lemon cakes.” Arya pointed accusingly at Sansa with the now denuded chicken bone. “You want to hold him down and ride him like a pony.”

Sansa huffed a breath. “Arya that’s disgusting. You are putting way too much onto a simple question.”

Lady, realising there wasn’t any more chicken in the offing, whined and went back to sleep.

“You’ve been a celibate single mother for too long,” said Arya, narrowing her eyes. “It’s made you crazy. You want to have raunchy sex with gigantic vets.”

Sansa scowled again. “I was just curious. I had some… thoughts and last night I had a, um, dream about him and I was wondering if he was single or, ah, not single. That’s all,” she said defensively.

Arya’s mouth fell open, and she sat heavily on the couch. She shifted the phone she’d just sat on from under her bottom and threw it on the coffee table. “You really had a filthy sex dream about Sandor?”

Sansa stood up and removed the greasy chicken bone from Arya’s grasp. “I never said that it was that kind of dream.”

Arya’s eyes were wide as she followed Sansa’s progress around the couch. “Yes, you did, you implied it. Oh my fucking gods.”

“Regardless, I can’t help what I dream,” said Sansa from the kitchen as she put the bone in the bin and washed her hands in the sink.

“You do understand that you are gorgeous and could have any man you wanted?” said Arya, scooting up onto her knees and draping herself against the back of the couch so she could watch Sansa.

“What? The way I look has nothing to do with anything.” Sansa filled the jug with water and switched it on.

Arya rolled her eyes dramatically. “Only a really fucking good-looking person would say that. Anyway, if you ask Sandor out, he’ll think you’re taking the piss.”

“Why would he…” Sansa paused in front of the cupboard, before selecting two mugs. One with a turquoise cat pattern for Arya and a pale pink one for herself. “Wait, so he is single?”

Arya sighed loudly, causing Lady to twitch in her sleep. “Of course he’s single. You’ve met him. Does he seem like someone women want to date?”

Sansa opened the box of tea bags and considered this. “He doesn’t seem like someone women wouldn’t want to date.”

Arya frowned, evidently trying to work out what Sansa was trying to say.

“He is quite an appealing man,” continued Sansa. “He’s wonderfully sturdy and tall. And have you noticed his hands? They are so large and strong, but he was very gentle with Lady. And he said he’d never hurt me.”

Arya looked dumbfounded. “You really are serious about this.”

Sansa filled the mugs with the now boiling water. “Not necessarily. It was an idea I had because I don’t want a relationship. I need to put Kat’s needs first and I’m still not ready to date, regardless.” Sansa fetched the milk from the fridge and fiddled with the cap before pouring some into both mugs. “I was considering asking him if he wanted a sort of friends with benefits arrangement.”

Arya snorted. “Calling you friends is pushing it to start with. You just want to have your wicked way with him.”

Sansa carried the mugs of tea over and placed them on the coffee table. “Well. Maybe. He’s certainly imposing.”

“Gods I would do pretty much anything to be a fly on the wall when you proposition the poor man.”

Sansa took a sip of her drink. “I thought this was an Intervention? Shouldn’t you be trying to talk me out of it?”

Arya made a gesture of dismissal. “I figured you’d had a breakdown, but you seem sane enough. You’re starting to win me over to this ridiculous idea. I think I ship it.”

“You what it?”

Arya’s phone started to ring. She looked at the caller ID and snorted. “It’s Gendry,” said Arya, and picked up the call. “Hey. Yeah, I’ll be home shortly.” She made a face and Sansa could hear the low rumble of Gendry’s voice. “She’s fine, but she genuinely wants to fuck Sandor’s brains out.”

“Hey!” said Sansa indignantly.

“Yeah I know,” Arya continued to Gendry, “yeah I know that too. And that. Hung like a horse you say?”

Sansa gave an alarmed squeak.

Arya laughed and moved the phone away from her mouth. “Gendry wants you to know I just made that up. I bet it’s true though.” She continued to speak on the phone. “Stop whining, I’ll be home soon. Now we know we don’t need to imprison my sister to save her from herself. Bye.”

“You should go home to your boyfriend.”

Arya picked up her mug and drank with relish. “You just want to sit here and lust after Sandor.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m still figuring things out.”

Arya sighed. “Some free advice from someone who has spent far too many hours with the giant fucker.”

Sansa hummed enquiringly. “Yes?”

“If you want something from him just ask. No games, no elaborate attempts at seduction, literally just be honest and upfront with him.”

Sansa thought back to when she started dating Joffrey who wooed her with flowers and extravagant dates and honeyed words that turned out to be all lies. “I’ve never had to do that before.”

Arya snorted rudely. “Again, truly spoken by someone who looks like a fucking model, Sansypants. Be honest with him and you’ll be fine. The worst that could happen is that he says he’s not interested and then you can move on to someone who doesn’t hate people.”

Sansa imagined herself as the seducer, taking control of her own life and pursuing what she wanted. She grinned. “Okay, thanks for the advice Arrycakes.”

Arya groaned. “Oh fuck, I thought you’d forgotten that terrible nickname. Goodnight, big sis. Please no more scandalous SMS messages until I’ve recovered from tonight’s shocking revelations.”


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks after ascertaining that Sandor was in fact single, Sansa stood out the front of the Winter Town Vet Clinic. Kat was cheerfully babbling to Lady, which probably wasn’t the best thing to set Sansa’s mood for proposing sex to an ill-tempered veterinarian. Sansa hoped Ygritte was keen to watch Kat again because otherwise her plan would be over before it even started.

She smoothed down the top of her favourite blue fitted jumper. She picked the blue because it matched her eyes and looked nice against her hair, and, if she was being truthful with herself, clung nicely to all the right places. Sansa had spent the past two weeks preparing her seduction of Sandor Clegane. Well, not seduction. She was planning on following Arya’s advice and being open and honest. Sansa was starting to think a seduction might have been easier. How did you just come and out say you wanted to sleep with someone? It seemed… bold.

She took a deep breath. This was part of her taking control. For too long she’d felt like a victim. Had been a victim. This time she was going after what she wanted. Taking back her self-confidence. She gave herself a decisive nod and aimed Kat’s stroller towards the building.

Ygritte and Hot Pie were both sitting at the front desk. The red-haired woman appeared to be in the middle of lecturing Hot Pie about something.

“…office computers for, what was it?” Ygritte was saying, “Elf erotica?”

“It was tasteful,” muttered Hot Pie. “I was looking at character concepts.”

“Tormund would probably be into it, but Sandor would have your fucking head. You know he hasn’t forgiven you for your bard trying to seduce his barbarian. I never hear the bloody end of it.”

“Hi Tit! Hi Pie!” said Kat excitedly from her stroller.

“Kitten Kat!” said Ygritte, grinning broadly at the newcomers. “And Sansa. Come to save me from finding enormous elf tits on my computer?”

Sansa laughed. “Yes I have.”

Hot Pie ignored Ygritte in favour of holding a large box of chocolates towards Sansa and shaking it invitingly. “Do you and the little one want a chocolate, Sansa? Sandor saved the life of a dog that had been hit by a car last week, and the family dropped this off as a thank you this morning. If you don’t take one now, Ygritte is going to eat them all.”

Ygritte glowered at her colleague. “You rude bugger, you’ve had twice as many as me.”

“Gog-gog?” said Kat, sounding particularly keen. “GOG-GOG?”

Sansa grinned and selected two chocolates, passing one to Kat. “Thanks Hot Pie. Yes Kat, it’s chocolate. What do you say?”

“TA,” shouted Kat, quivering with excitement. She shoved the chocolate into her little mouth and gave a happy sigh.

“A girl after my own heart,” said Ygritte fondly.

Hot Pie snickered and Ygritte made a rude gesture in his direction.

“Sandor won’t be long,” said Ygritte, “do you want to leave Kat here with me? I need some better company than this elf-porn-loving bastard.”

“Chawacter. Confept,” mumbled Hot Pie around a mouthful of chocolate.

“That would be great, thanks. Kat hasn’t stopped talking about last time we came here.”

“Tit!” said Kat, through her mouthful of chocolate, grinning at the woman behind the desk.

Sansa chatted to Ygritte and Hot Pie for a few minutes before Sandor finally came out to collect her and Lady. Seeing him in person made her heart give a little flip flop. She murmured a greeting and followed him with Lady, leaving Kat with Ygritte.

Lady was evidently pleased to see him too, as she was wagging her entire body. Sandor grunted a laugh as he lifted the large puppy onto the examination table, and she tried desperately to lick his face.

Sansa couldn’t stop herself from watching Sandor’s big, strong hands as he examined Lady. His fingers were long under his surgical gloves, but he deftly manoeuvred the wiggling puppy. She felt like she should say something, but an alarming combination of nerves and arousal made her mouth dry. She could hear her heart beating in her ears.

“Hold the pup still,” said Sandor, moving to retrieve the puppy vaccinations.

Sansa muttered a response that would hopefully pass for acquiescence and stiffly gripped Lady’s torso. Lady turned her head to observe what Sansa was doing and shot her owner a look of confusion.

Sandor returned with the needles and Sansa wordlessly let Lady go. She clutched the edge of the examination table, trying to remember what she usually did with her hands. She watched Sandor jab Lady with clinical efficiency.

Sandor removed the syringe from Lady’s scruff and gave Sansa a long stare. “Is something wrong with you? You usually talk to me.”

Sansa took a deep breath. “Would-you-be-interested-in-having-sexual-relations-with-me?” she blurted in one breath, her eyes squeezed shut.

There was a lengthy pause.

Sansa risked opening one eye. Sandor was still staring at her, looking aghast. Lady looked up at him and whined.

“Are you fucking joking?” he eventually rasped.

Sansa opened both eyes and squinted at him. “No? I wouldn’t joke about something like that. I’m being upfront and honest.”

His lips quirked upwards briefly, but then he scowled again. “I’m an ugly old dog.”

Sansa stared at his face and frowned, taking in his grey eyes, scars, dark hair, kissable lips. “I don’t think you’re ugly.”

“You’re hot as fuck. Look at you.” He made a vague waving motion at her. “You’re the most beautiful fucking person I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment sounded like an accusation, but a sensation of warmth still arose in Sansa’s chest. “Oh. Thank you? But I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.”

He looked profoundly incredulous. “You’re so fucking far out of my league. What the fuck.”

Sandor appeared to be processing her request rather than requiring a response, so she kept silent. He lifted Lady down from the table, removed his surgical gloves and ran a hand through his hair.

“Is this a Beauty and the Beast kink?” he said finally.

“A what?” said Sansa, horrified. “No. It’s okay if you aren’t interested in me in that way, I won’t be upset if you say no.” The familiar urge to flee reared its ugly head. She backed up a step.

Sandor frowned and held up his hand for her to stop. “You could have any fucking man you wanted. You at least owe me an explanation.”

Sansa stood up straighter, clenched her fists and girded herself with uprightness and honesty. “I find you attractive...”

Sandor looked profoundly incredulous.

She sagged slightly. “…and you wouldn’t hurt me. I feel safe around you, and I’d like to have a good experience with… with sex with someone I could trust. I don’t have a great history with… that.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “Okay. Fuck. Okay, let’s go outside. I have to put my thermometer up dogs’ asses in here, so I’d rather have this conversation somewhere else.”

Lady hid behind Sansa’s legs and whined.

Sansa cleared her throat. “I should see if Ygritte is fine with having Kat for a little while longer first.”

Ygritte and Kat were having an impromptu picnic in the reception area, holding the chocolates hostage from a pouting Hot Pie. Ygritte was indeed happy to keep Kat for longer, so Sansa and Lady followed Sandor to the rear of the vet clinic.

As soon as they stepped outside, excited dogs of a variety of shapes and sizes mobbed Sandor. “All right, calm down you crazy fuckers.” He turned a valve that was situated on the back wall of the clinic, and after several seconds an irrigation system sprang to life on the field beyond the buildings. As a baying pack, the dogs and Lady took off towards it. “That’ll give us some peace. The dogs like to play in the water.”

Stranger was sprawled across a bench, apparently untroubled by the canine inhabitants of the shelter. Sansa sat beside the fluffy black cat, giving his ears a scratch as she did so.

“Piss off, cat,” Sandor said, giving Stranger a nudge so he’d move. Stranger gave an indignant meow and climbed onto Sansa’s lap, digging his claws into her jeans as he tried to find a comfortable position to go back to sleep.

Sandor sat in Stranger’s former spot, beside Sansa but not so close that he was crowding her.

“Here.” He handed her a hip flask he’d produced from… somewhere.

Sansa unscrewed the lid and sniffed it dubiously. It smelled like paint thinner.

“It’s Wildling whiskey. Tormund found me a supplier. I take a nip whenever I lose an animal and need to get my fucking head straight.”  

Sansa took a small mouthful and passed the flask back. The liquor burned her throat, but she managed not to choke. Warmth spread through her body and she felt calmer.

Sandor grunted approvingly. “So,” he said.

“So.” Sansa watched the dogs frolicking in the yard and smiled, absently running her hand over the silky fur on Stranger’s back. “You said you got Lady from a puppy farm? Did you rescue many of the dogs yourself?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “The local police contact me when they find an abused animal. I’ve never had too much trouble taking an animal in for rehabilitation and rehoming. There are some benefits to being a big scary fucker.”

“It’s amazing that you do that,” said Sansa, stroking under Stranger’s chin. “Helping abused animals.”

“It pisses me off when worthless cunts hurt animals. Makes me wish I could hurt them back.” He let out a long breath. “I’m not into that shit though so I stick to the rescuing.”

Podrick came into view, holding a puppy who was squirming and trying to lick his chin. The young man looked up and froze when he saw Sandor and Sansa sitting on the back step. “Um,” he said.

“Podrick, fuck o… actually, wait.” Sandor hesitated and glanced sideways at Sansa. “Take the pup to reception and show it to the kid there. Let her play with it.”

Podrick scurried away, mumbling an affirmative.

Sansa smiled. “Kat will enjoy that. She loves dogs. And wolves.”

Sandor took a swig of the whiskey then placed the hipflask on the bench between them. Stranger opened one eye and reached out a desultory paw to tap the flask. “Must be hard dating with the kid around.”

“I don’t date,” Sansa replied, shrugging. “She’s my priority. That’s why I wanted something less, um, complicated than a relationship.”

Sandor hummed in agreement then leaned back and stared up at the sky, seemingly lost in thought.

Sansa gazed at him for a few moments, then picked up the hipflask and took a small sip before watching the dogs play as they sat unspeaking. She scratched Stranger’s ears and the huge cat purred hoarsely.

Sandor shifted in his seat and Sansa glanced at him again before the big vet nodded to himself then abruptly turned to face her. “How do you want it?”

Sansa blinked. “Excuse me?”

“What are you asking me for, Little Bird?” said Sandor, rolling his eyes. “Do you want me to come over, fuck you and leave, or stay the night? And is this a once only deal or do you want a regular fucking?”

Sansa squeaked with embarrassment at his bluntness then gave a small “Oh.” She took a deep breath again. “Arya’s offered to take Kat for the night if ever I had company, so I guess maybe you could stay the night every so often? If you were interested.”

A look of comprehension came over his face. “You told Wolf Girl you wanted to fuck me.”

Sansa felt her face get hotter. “I really did not word it like that.”

“That explains why the little shit was so smug when I saw her the other day,” said Sandor, but he didn’t sound angry.  

“I asked her if you were single. It sort of went from there.”

He barked a laugh. “You thought I might not be single? You’re fucking blind, girl. No one would want a relationship with an ugly fucker like me. Best I can manage is drunk cunts in bars who want the body but not the face.”

Sansa’s heart clenched in sympathy, but she kept her expression as neutral as she could for Sandor’s sake. “I already said I wanted to, um, to have sex with you. And I’m not blind.”

He looked sideways at her again. “Apparently.”

There was a pause before Sandor moved to crouch in front of her. Stranger gave an annoyed huff and jumped off Sansa’s lap onto the space that the vet had vacated.

Sandor very softly raised her chin with his finger so she was looking at him. “Give yourself until next Saturday.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If you still want me on Saturday, in five days, after you’ve had more time to think about it, then I’ll fuck you.” His voice had deepened and his gaze was intent.

Sansa’s knees went wobbly as her brain attempted to shunt aside another bout of sudden and profound arousal in order to parse his response and come up with a polite rejoinder. “Guh,” she said.

He grinned, wolfishly, then moved closer and brushed an infinitely gentle kiss across her lips.

She clawed back her wits, and leaned forward to kiss him back properly, cupping his scarred cheek with her hand as she did so. He tasted of the Wildling whiskey and his beard was rough but kissing him was much nicer than kissing Joffrey. He rested a hand lightly on the back of her head, but he let her take the lead and she was grateful.

A damp wiggling body pushed its way between them. Lady yipped with excitement. They both pulled away and Sansa smiled. Sandor looked slightly poleaxed.

“I won’t change my mind,” she murmured. “See you on Saturday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo! What'd you all think of Sandor's reaction? Was it what you expected? :D 
> 
> (also Kat's reaction to the 'gog-gog' made me smile because it was lifted straight from the life of my youngest kid, who at that age had an intense passion for the chocolatey goodness of both Freddo Frogs and Kinder Eggs!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is what happens when you have a gross head cold and spend your spare time for the week curled up on the couch comfort watching nature documentaries and drinking loads of hot lemon and honey. Not conducive conditions to write smut as originally intended!

Sansa put the plate of sliced apple in front of Kat, who was perched in her highchair at the kitchen table.  

The toddler looked at it and frowned. “Gog-gog?” said Kat.

Sansa sat down in the dining chair between her daughter and Arya, who was visiting for the evening. “No Kitty Kat, it’s yummy sliced apple.”

“Gog-gog,” said Kat, looking mutinous.

“We don’t have any gog… ugh, I mean chocolate. Remember how Dany and the Sparkle Dragons eat all their yummy fruit and veges so they grow up big and strong? Dragons can eat anything they want but they love apples!” Sansa tapped the edge of the plate, which featured a glittery red and black cartoon dragon. “And look, it’s your Drogon plate.”

Kat looked at the apple with narrowed eyes, then grinned and took a slice. “Dany!”

Sansa gave the little girl an encouraging smile. “That’s right, just like Dany.”

Arya peered at Sansa over the rim of her mug of tea. “Did you know Dany and the Sparkle Dragons performed north of the Wall?”

“I knew they’d been on a tour of Westeros but not that they’d been to the Wall. They played in Kings Landing, and I went with Kat and Tyrion,” Sansa said, smiling at the memory. “I’ve never danced so much in my life.”

Arya pinched one apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. “They performed in some Wildling villages up there.” Her mouthful of fruit muffled her voice. “Kind of a goodwill gesture. But! As Director of Tourism for the Wall National Park, Jon was involved in the organisation of it and he met Dany.”

Sansa helped herself to a plum from the bowl. Davos had given her a big bag of delicious apples and plums from his and Stannis’s backyard orchard. “He never told me that!”

“Yes, but apparently,” Arya paused and glanced over at Kat who was absorbed in delicately eating her apple, “he ‘met’ her.” Arya made air quotes with her free hand and waggled her eyebrows.

Sansa put her hand over her mouth and gasped. “Are they in a relationship? She’s so famous!”

Arya snorted and took another bite of apple. “I would have thought you of all people would understand that ‘meeting’ someone doesn’t mean that you are in a relationship with them.”

“Well, yes, that’s true.”  Sansa regarded her plum contemplatively, then took a bite.

Arya narrowed her eyes. “Which reminds me, are you still on birth control for your periods?”

Sansa swallowed her mouthful before speaking. “Arya! Yes I am, but you don’t need to give me a lecture about what’s happening tomorrow.”

Arya gestured lazily with her half-eaten apple. “Well, I’m pretty sure you didn’t plan Kat. I’m making sure you don’t end up with a gigantic Sandor-baby.”

“I conceived Kat when the antibiotics I was taking interfered with my Pill,” said Sansa quietly. “I’ve learned that lesson.”

She leaned over and kissed the top of Kat’s head, a reminder that the best thing in her life arose from that particular misjudgement. Even if Kat’s father was a horrible person. Not for the first time, Sansa was eternally relieved that Joffrey wanted to sign away his parental rights in return for not providing any child support for Kat.

“Thank fuck she’s a clone of you,” Arya said, leaning her chin on her hand and watching Kat cheerfully consume her snack, “I can’t detect any of that miserable little blond ballbag in her.”

“I can’t change who her father is, but I can make sure she grows up surrounded by love and not anger and,” Sansa cringed, “and abuse.”

She hated calling Joffrey’s violence abuse. She’d endured, survived, and finally escaped him and felt incredibly lucky to have done so. Calling his behaviour ‘abuse’ aloud made it feel too close again, like he was in the next room and could still hurt her.

“You do have shit taste in men,” said Arya, patting Sansa’s arm when she received a scowl for her pronouncement. “But, and if you repeat this I’m going to deny it, but Sandor is okay for a big grumpy fucker.”

Sansa stared at her sister then over at her phone, which was sitting beside the fruit bowl. “Oh gods it’s really supposed to be happening tomorrow. It’s been two years since I’ve…” She peered across at Kat who was busy with a game that looked like one slice of apple was talking to another slice of apple. Sansa lowered her voice to a whisper. “…had sex.”

“It’s just like riding a bicycle. Or, in this case, a very large man.”

Sansa groaned. “Not helpful.”

“So you’re definitely going through with it?”

“You make it sound like something regrettable and permanent, like a misspelled facial tattoo.”

“Have you confirmed it’s really happening? Since he gave you that five day cop out.”

Sansa gathered up their empty mugs and took them over to the sink where the remains of their dinner dishes were soaking. “I was going to message him tomorrow morning. Do you think he might say he’s changed his mind?”

Arya slid over into Sansa’s vacated seat so she could ruffle Kat’s curls. “Nah, but I think you should SMS him. He’s roleplaying with Gendry and the others at Beric’s place, he could probably use the distraction.”

“I’ll do it after I put Kat to bed.”

“I can put her to bed, it’ll be good practice for tomorrow. What do you want me to do?”

Sansa started to scrub the dishes. “She needs her teeth brushed and for you to read her a bedtime story.”

“Dany!” Kat interjected.

“Yes, one of the Dany and the Sparkle Dragons books. Maybe ‘ _Viserion's Happy Fun Snow Day_ ’? We haven’t read that one in a while.”

Arya lifted Kat out of the highchair and grinned as her niece squealed with joy and wrapped her arms around Arya’s neck in a tight hug. “Let’s go and practice for tomorrow, since Mummy will be busy getting some action tomorrow night and you’re going to have a sleepover with Auntie Arya and Uncle Gendry.”

Sansa groaned and flicked a handful of excess dishwashing bubbles at Arya.

Once Kat had been put to bed, read to and kissed goodnight by both women, Sansa retrieved her phone and sent the text message.

 

**Sansa [7.45pm] - Hi Sandor! Sansa here! :) Just checking to make sure you still want to come over tomorrow night?**

 

Sansa brandished her phone nervously. “Okay, I did it.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “You actively propositioned the guy at his workplace and now you get shy?”

Sansa poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Arya. They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast.

Sansa’s phone beeped, and she yelped and jumped in surprise, spilling some wine over her hand. Arya laughed hard and Sansa poked her tongue out at her little sister.

 

**Sandor [7.48pm] - Hello. Are you sure you want me to?**

 

Sansa regarded her phone with wide eyes. “He’s asking if I’m sure I want him to come over.”

Arya leaned against the kitchen benchtop and grinned. “Are you committed to this plan?”

Sansa scowled. “Yes!”

 

**Sansa [7.50pm] - Yes of course I’m sure! :) Are you sure?**

**Sandor [7.50pm] - Yes I’m sure.**

**Sansa [7.51pm] - Okay great :D**

 

Sansa’s stomach got butterflies at the confirmation. “He said he’s still interested.”

“Of course he is still interested Sansypants, I’m sure this is literally the best offer he’s had in his life.”

Sansa remembered what Sandor had said about women not being interested in him and her heart clenched all over again. He had so much going for him. Anyone who couldn’t see past his scars was an idiot.   

“I should feed him first,” she said, clutching her phone with both hands and shaking it a little. “That would be a nice thing to do. Make us both more comfortable.”

Arya leaned her elbow on the bench and cupped her chin with her palm. “You’re losing it Sans. You are over complicating this and it is sounding like a date.”

“Dinner would be polite, instead of jumping straight into… things. I mean, what’s the etiquette here?”  

Arya shrugged with one shoulder. “He comes over, you go to the bedroom and get naked and busy.”

Sansa tapped her fingers nervously on the bench. “That sounds very clinical.”

“You didn’t think this through before you asked him to service you sexually?” said Arya, smirking.

“I just wanted a good experience.” Sansa looked at her phone like it might bite her. “I didn’t think about the before and after parts.”

“I like how you are assuming he’ll be any good in bed. He might be rubbish.”

“He would struggle to be worse than Joffrey.” Sansa considered the several years of deeply unsatisfying sex with Joffrey and sighed. The way people always talked about it as being something actively enjoyable, she was certain she’d missed out on something there.

 

**Sansa [7.56pm] - Do you want to have dinner here?**

 

“Alright I asked him if he wanted dinner.”

A small line of consternation appeared between Arya’s eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me you are going to make him a romantic candlelit dinner.”

 

**Sandor [7.57pm] - Yes dinner would be good. Thnx. I can come over after work.**

 

“He said he’d like dinner,” said Sansa, taking a fortifying drink of her wine.

Arya laughed into her wine. “Of course he’d like dinner.”

“And I wasn’t thinking anything romantic, just, you know, a normal dinner like I’d make for me and Kat.”

 

**Sansa [8.00pm] - Okay great. Do you like lasagne?**

**Sandor [8.00pm] - Lol I eat anything, so yes. What r u up to tonight?**

 

“He said yes to dinner then asked what I’m up to tonight.”

“I won’t judge if you want to duck into the bathroom and take a nude selfie for him.”

“No! You are the worst sister,” Sansa huffed.

Arya grinned unrepentantly.

 

**Sansa [8.02pm] - I’m hanging out with my sister. Arya said you were at the role-playing group?**

**Sandor [8.03pm] - Yeah. Varys is giving me shit for using my phone @ the table**

**Sansa [8.03pm] - I hope I’m not distracting you if you are busy? ;)**

**Sandor [8.05pm] - Nah, Gendry let me die, the stupid shit. Fucking red dragon full damage critted me while teh cleric was busy trying to hit the fucker with his shit +1 mace nd his equally shit +7 to hit.**

 

“He’s saying Gendry killed him,” said Sansa, frowning.

Arya snorted. “That sounds about right. Why they wanted my clueless boyfriend to be the party healer, I’ll never understand.”

 

**Sansa [8.06pm] - Lol I don’t know what that means, but I’m glad I’m not bugging you. :)**

**Sandor [8.07pm] - Do you want me to bring anything tomorrow? Beer? Condoms?**

 

“He’s asking if I want him to bring anything.”

Arya refilled both glasses with the rest of the wine. “Do you have any condoms? If you want him to use one as a back-up.”

Sansa hummed as she considered this. “I think I’d rather go without one. How do I ask politely if he is clean?”

“Did you get tested for STIs after you broke up with Joffrey?”

Sansa winced, remembering the fear she’d had before her results came back negative. “Yes.”

“Well then, offer to send him your test results from the Maester and see if he does the same.”

 

**Sansa [8.10pm] - You don’t need to bring food or drink. What’s ur email address? I’ll forward the Maester cert showing tht I’m clean. Got tested a few months ago.**

**Sandor [8.11pm] -** [ **Sandor@wintertownvetclinic.nrth.net** ](mailto:Sandor@wintertownvetclinic.nrth.net) **. Whats yours? I’ll send you my Maestr cert too.**

**Sansa [8.12pm] - Mine is** [ **S_Stark@northnet.wst** ](mailto:S_Stark@northnet.wst) **. Condoms is up to you since we’re both clean, I’m on the Pill. This is a very grown up convo, haha.**

 

“You’re blushing,” said Arya, raising an eyebrow. “I’d ask if he sent you a dick pic, but this is Sandor. He’d never voluntarily take a photo of himself. Even his Little Sandor.”

“By the gods, Arya,” squeaked Sansa. “Let’s go and watch Playing for Keeps. You are a terrible influence.”

Arya laughed and gave her a side hug. “You bring the wine, I’ll grab the snacks.”

Sansa curled up on the couch beside her sister, with her phone so she could keep messaging Sandor off and on. Eventually Arya headed home and Sansa was ready for bed.

 

**Sansa [10.12pm] - I’m looking forward to seeing you but I’m nervous, haha.**

**Sandor [10.13pm] - We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. You call the shots.**

**Sansa [10.13pm] - Okay. Thnx. See you at dinner time! Xoxo**

**Sandor [10.14pm] - Goodnight.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long! Hopefully it was worth the wait – please note the changes to the fic rating and tags. 
> 
> I'm a bit of a nervous wreck about this chapter so any comments are gratefully received! <3

Sansa stood naked in her bedroom and frowned. She used to have some beautiful lingerie, but she’d disposed of it when she left Joffrey. There had been no need to purchase any more except for her own enjoyment, and she couldn’t justify spending that kind of money on anything that wasn’t necessary.

Now she had a choice of four not-very-interesting bras and a variety of sensible cotton underpants and was experiencing some regret about discarding her sexy undergarments.

She held up her red bra. It had some lacy detail along the cups and the colour contrasted boldly against her fair skin and auburn hair. But then there was the dark blue, which was a simple garment, but she suited anything blue.

“Red,” she said aloud, though she was alone in the house now that Arya had already collected a very excited Kat and equally hyper Lady for the night. “Red is daring, and that is what I am tonight.”

She didn’t have any matching knickers, but plain black cotton would have to do. Sandor had never given her the impression of someone who would judge her for her choice of attire.

“It’s not like they will be staying on for long anyway,” she reasoned. Sansa shivered with arousal at the recollection of what would happen tonight. She had shaved her legs and underarms and neatly trimmed the bright curls between her legs. Joffrey had required that she be bare down there and have regular waxes. The raw pain of having her intimate hair ripped out was an unpleasant memory, and she relished not doing that anymore. It was, she thought, something of a symbol for the demise of her relationship with Joffrey.

Sansa ran a hand down her body, moving to stand in front of her dresser mirror. She’d changed in figure since any other adult had seen her naked. Her breasts were nice enough, though they sat heavier that they had before she bore and then nursed Kat. Faint vertical silvery stripes of stretch mark scars along the skin of her flat stomach. Hips that were a little wider than they had been before Kat. Sansa’s hand slipped lower, between her curls. For a long time she’d thought there was something wrong with her body down there, after Joffrey had reacted in disgust when faced with her most intimate parts. She had asked Maester Alleras, the midwife she saw during her pregnancy, if she was malformed, but the Maester had assured her she was perfectly fine and normal. Alleras had shown her some photographs of women in a medical textbook, and judicious use of a mirror when she was alone again had confirmed the truth of the Maester’s words. She took her hand away from its exploration of her body and shut her eyes against the usual anger at herself that thoughts of Joffrey bought.

It didn’t indicate a weakness of character that she had ended up in an abusive relationship. She wasn’t pathetic. Staying with him for so long didn’t mean she was a bad person. She was here in Winterfell now and free. The most important thing was that she and Kat were safe.

Sansa opened her eyes again and smiled at her reflection. She was taking charge of what she wanted.

She donned her selections, then regarded her wardrobe. A skirt seemed too formal and jeans too constricting. She selected black leggings and a loose soft forest green jumper. The leggings would show off her long legs, which she considered her best feature, and the jumper was comfortable, soft and lovely to touch.

She took a deep breath and looked around the room. Her bed was neatly made, everything else was tidy. She tapped her bedside lamp once to turn it to the dimmest setting, since it would be dark by the time they would come in here. An intense combination of both nerves and aroused anticipation hit her again, and she shivered.

Sansa left her bedroom with a final glance at the bed that was sitting innocently in the middle of the room and checked on the lasagne that was keeping warm in the oven. Drinks were chilling in the fridge, she’d put both Kat’s toys and Lady’s toys away, the house looked both orderly and inviting.

The sound of a motorbike caught her attention. Sansa clutched the bench, frozen in place, as it got closer and closer until it stopped. She let go with a hiss of her breath and gave her hair a no doubt unnecessary pat to tidy it. She jumped as there was a firm knock at the door. Her stomach did flips with nerves and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

Sansa flung open the door and Sandor was there, filling up most of the space on the front doorstep. They stared wide eyed at each other for several moments. He’d obviously had a shower recently because his hair was still slightly damp. He was wearing a check shirt and jeans. Sansa was getting a very strong lumberjack vibe from his attire and she found she liked it. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and that struck Sansa most of all. His overnight things were in the backpack. He was staying with her for the night. Soon they would be naked.

She cleared her throat. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he replied, then jerked his thumb towards the house next door. “Your sister is fucking watching me.”

Sansa leaned around Sandor’s bulk to see the diminutive form of Arya standing in a back window of her and Gendry’s cottage. Sandor turned around too, and Arya silently pointed at her own eyes then at Sandor.

Sansa sighed and made a shooing motion at Arya. “It’s nice she’s protective of me. I suppose. Better that than indifference.”

Sandor rumbled an agreement. “I’ll expect a shiv between the ribs if I put a foot wrong.”

“Come inside,” Sansa said, stepping back to let him in, then close the door behind him.

He came a little inside and leaned against the wall so he could remove his boots, placing them neatly beside the door. Sansa couldn’t resist a giggle when she saw that his socks had little cartoon dogs on them.

He followed her gaze and snorted. “Tormund gave these to me for my last Nameday, the fucking prat. I have a whole collection of novelty socks at home from both him and that shit Beric. Fuckers think it’s funny.”

Sansa grinned. “I think they are cute!”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled back. “You would.”

“Dinner is ready, if you want to come and sit on the couch. The table seems a bit formal. Gendry mentioned you liked Westerlands Stout? I bought a few cans if you’d like one.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Sansa bustled around in the kitchen organising Sandor’s beer and a glass of wine for herself, then serving the food. She handed Sandor his large portion of lasagne and sat down almost but not quite beside him on the couch. She grimaced at her own food. Nerves were starting to set in again and eating food was the last thing she felt like doing. Sandor didn’t seem to have the same problem as he was consuming his dinner with gusto.

“Do you mind if I put the TV on? Maybe something, um, non-fiction?” she blurted, dropping her plate onto the coffee table with slightly too much force.

He gave her a strange look but said “Go ahead.”

Sansa seized the remote control. “Oh, this one is good,” she said, accessing the television streaming service, “it’s the Aemon Targaryen special on puffins who nest in cracks that have appeared in the Wall near Eastwatch by-the-Sea.”

Sandor’s grunt sounded affirmative, so Sansa selected the documentary and sat back on the couch. She eyed her lasagne with disfavour but forced herself to eat whilst they listened to the soothing tones of Aemon Targaryen discuss the complex inner lives of puffins.

“I thought for a moment you were going to put porn on,” said Sandor after several minutes. “But nope, you found an actual documentary.”

Sansa swallowed her mouthful and stared at Sandor, her breath hitching. Was this his way of saying he didn’t find her attractive and needed some ‘help’ to get in a sexy mood? “Ahh, do you want to watch some pornography?” she said with some alarm. “Would that, uh, assist you with tonight?”

Sandor looked at her and snorted. “Fuck no, that won’t be necessary.”

Sansa’s breathing returned to normal. “Okay, well, um, good.”

“Why, do you need to watch some?” he said, looking faintly amused.

“No no, I don’t need it.” Sansa waved her fork dismissively. “I’m good with the puffins.”

There was a lengthy pause and Sandor raised his good eyebrow at her.

Sansa realised belatedly how her words could potentially be interpreted. “Oh gods, not in a sexual way. Just, you know, while we eat.”

They sat in a slightly awkward silence, finishing the meal and learning about puffins.

“You finished?” said Sandor, standing up with his empty plate and gesturing to hers.

“Yeah. I’m full.”

“That was a bird sized serving you gave yourself.” Sandor took her plate and stacked it with his, speaking to her over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen. “You nervous?”

Sansa fiddled with a loose thread on her leggings. “A little.”

There was a clatter as he placed their dishes in the sink. “You say stop, we stop, no questions asked and no hurt feelings. I don’t force women.”

“I want to do this.” Sansa twisted so she could watch as he walked back to her. He was so big he made her little cottage look tiny. “I’m just out of practice. It’s been a long time and my previous experiences weren’t so great.”

He sat down beside her, a little closer than before. “Well then, what do you want to do in bed?”

She blinked in surprise at his bald words. “Gods, no one’s ever asked me that.”

He took her nearest hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “You said you wanted me to fuck you, Little Bird, but you must have had something in mind.”

Sansa had the distinct impression she was drowning in embarrassment. Her face felt like a furnace, which probably clashed horribly with her hair. “I would like, um. I would like to…” She took a large gulp of wine, then put the glass back on the table. Accidently dropping it seemed like a possibility at this point.

“Shame I left my Wildling whiskey at home. Sounds like you need some.” Sandor looked amused.

She stared at their joined hands. Hers was engulfed by his, which was huge and calloused. “It’s difficult to say it out loud.”

He arched his eyebrow. “You come to my work and tell me you want my cock but you can’t bring yourself to discuss specifics?”

Sansa huffed a breath. “Okay, fair point. Well, I would like to experience, um, oral. I’ve done it, just never…” she waved a hand vaguely over herself, “never been on the receiving end.”

He looked quizzical. “Never?”

“Never,” she said, shaking her head. “Joff said it was too, ah, disgusting for him.” Her shoulders curled forward with remembered humiliation, but she forced herself to sit up straight and unafraid.

Sandor gave a derisive snort. “What a fuckwit.”

“Oh,” she said, staring fixedly at their joined hands, “one thing I don’t want, ah, I don’t want pain. Joffrey liked when I wasn’t ready and too dry. It hurt and I don’t like that.”

“If I ever meet this Joffrey, I’m going to fucking punch him in his little cunt face.” He shook his head and grimaced. “We’ll make sure you are good and ready for me.”

His response reassured Sansa, and she relaxed a little, reminding herself to be bold. “What about you? Is there anything you particularly ah, would like?”

He made an amused noise. “Not really, since I’ll be balls deep inside you before I truly believe this is happening.”

She raised her eyebrows. “There must be something.”

“Fine, fine.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “I want to see your tits.”

Sansa burst out laughing, breaking the tension in the room. She put her hand over her mouth in case her laughter offended him, but he was looking at her and smiling.

She smiled back. “I think that can be arranged.”

He twisted to face her properly, and she grabbed a handful of the front of his shirt and gave it a small tug.

“Come here,” she whispered.

He leaned towards her and she pulled him into a kiss.

His kiss was a little hesitant. Sansa wondered if his previous experiences hadn’t included much kissing, but didn’t want to ask. Gods knew she had come to dislike kissing Joffrey and had tried to avoid it. Her kisses with Joff had started off nicely enough, but towards the end of their relationship he’d liked to use his teeth more, nipping and biting her painfully. That line of thought ended abruptly as Sandor trailed the tips of his fingers down her cheek and throat and she involuntarily sighed at his touch. She really had to stop thinking about previous experiences and focus on the here and now.

Sansa could feel the scar tissue on Sandor’s lip, but it wasn’t unpleasant, simply a little rough. She moved one hand to tangle it in his hair, which proved to be softer than she had expected. She cupped the scarred side of his face with her other hand and he moaned into her mouth as she did so.  

She tentatively touched his bottom lip with her tongue, wishing to deepen the kiss but not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Sandor made a low growling noise and met her tongue with his. He tasted faintly of the beer he’d been drinking with dinner. He smelled good too, a clean scent, unmistakably male.

She wiggled around and slung a leg over him, hauling herself onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He hummed approvingly and grasped her hips in his hands, pulling her against his body.

She broke the kiss long enough to lean back and pull her top off. He looked at her wide eyed, then rested his forehead against her chest and took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Fuck,” he murmured into the tops of her breasts before nuzzling her skin there.

She was the one to moan this time as he kissed his way up to her neck, trailing a necklace of kisses over her throat. He had a hand splayed out over her lower back, supporting her as he had to tip her back a little so he could reach her.

“Shall we take this to my bedroom?” she said breathlessly.

He slipped his hands under her bottom and she squeaked as he stood up with her in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck and hummed in appreciation.

“Will your bed fit me?” he rumbled, before kissing her lips again.

“This used to be a furnished guest house we rented out,” Sansa said when she broke the kiss. She stayed so close that her lips brushed his as she spoke. “The bed is sized for northerners so it’s big and sturdy.”

“Good.” He walked them past the kitchen and paused in the archway into the hall. “Which way?”

Sansa kissed her way across his good cheek and nipped his earlobe gently. “The door at the end of the hall.”

He moved them into the bedroom and carefully lowered her onto the bed. The dim light of the lamp bathed his form, and he eyed it with some disfavour. “Want me to switch it off? You don’t need to see me in order to do this.”

“If you feel uncomfortable, we can switch it off. But I… I want to see you. All of you.” She glanced at the scarred side of his face then back at his eyes.

He gave her a long look, then nodded slowly. She watched as he undid the top three buttons of his shirt, lifted the whole thing over his head and dropped it on the floor. Sansa didn’t like to swear, it wasn’t polite, but if there was ever a time she’d be tempted to say the f-word it was at the glorious sight of Sandor Clegane’s heavily muscled torso.

Joffrey had been almost ethereally beautiful, golden and slender, with hardly any body hair. Sandor could not be more different, hairy and huge with great slabs of muscle. Looking at him, desire struck Sansa, visceral in its intensity, combined with the urge to strip naked and hurl herself at him.  

She gathered her courage, wriggled backwards on the bed and tugged off her leggings and then undid her bra, flinging them over to join Sandor’s shirt. He stared at her with the same awestruck facial expression she suspected she had whilst looking at him. He rapidly pushed down his jeans, revealing boxer briefs straining around his swollen manhood. Sandor crawled over so he was above her, his chest hair tickling her nipples. She looped her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth before kissing him again. Revelling in the sensation of his hot skin pressed against hers, the strength she could feel in his body.

He moved backwards so he was nose to nipple with her left breast. The desperation for him to touch her there was so intense that she made an urgent noise and thrust her chest towards him.

He rumbled a low laugh. “Your tits are just as fucking beautiful as I imagined,” he said, before taking her nipple into his mouth.

His gentle suckling sent jolts of pleasure straight down between her legs and she squeezed her thighs together to try to relieve some tension.

She wanted him so much her fingers and toes tingled. She ran her fingers through his hair and pressed him more firmly against herself.

He ran his hand down her body, stopping at the edge of her underwear. He let go of her nipple with a wet pop and looked at her face for confirmation.

“Yes, please touch me there,” she moaned.

He pushed his hand under the elastic, then glided his fingers through the curls of hair at the apex of her legs. He ghosted his fingertips over her clit then moved his hand down and slipped a finger inside of her. His finger slid in easily, she was already soaking wet with desire.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured against her breast.

She moaned his name in response and he slipped a second finger inside her, pumping them slowly in and out.

He moved up to kiss her again, and she stroked down his firm body and reached for the elastic on his underpants.

He hummed and shook his head as he removed his fingers from her body. “Not yet. You first.”

He sat back on his heels and tugged her underwear off. He looked up and down her nakedness, then moved down the bed, kissing her breast then stomach and finally hip as he did so. Sansa had the fleeting worry there might in fact be something revolting about her most private area, that Maester Alleras had been wrong and Sandor would be as disgusted as Joffrey was.

Sandor rested his head on her thigh, the rough and scarred side of his face pressing into her delicate skin. The vulnerability of that gesture struck her deeply, and she opened her legs wider to his gaze in response, willing to be as open as he was obviously trying to be with her.

“Fuck me,” he said, flicking his gaze briefly up to her eyes before looking back at her centre, “even your cunt is as fucking perfect as the rest of you.” With that pronouncement he moved up and kissed her most intimate part and Sansa moaned with both the pleasure of it and relief that he hadn’t found fault with her.  

She’d been trying to imagine what this would be like. Slippery, she’d assumed. Which was correct, as Sandor’s tongue drifted slickly from inside of her up to flick over her clit. But there was so much more on focus on, his scratchy beard tickling her skin, his hand pushing her legs even wider apart to accommodate him then sliding two fingers inside her again. His pleased sounding hums as she moaned and writhed against his face. She tangled a hand in his hair, needing to ground herself against the intensity of the experience.

Her own free hand drifted up to pinch and twist her nipples and her cries of delight grew louder.

“Fuck yes,” muttered Sandor when he paused briefly and realised what she was doing. He redoubled his efforts to pleasure her, focusing solely on her clit now and crooking his fingers inside her to rub against her walls.

The burning ecstasy of her orgasm had built gradually, and she cried out as she suddenly peaked. Her body felt boneless afterwards. She languidly wrapped her arms around Sandor’s neck as he came back up the bed and pulled him in for a kiss.

He tasted musky, and she realised that her own wetness covered his face. The thought sent another bolt of arousal through her body and she kissed him more deeply, moaning wantonly into his mouth.

Sansa only opened her eyes when Sandor pulled back a little and spoke. “We can stop there if you would like.” His voice was low and intimate and aroused her more despite his choice of words.

She pulled him close again. “No,” she murmured, still drunk on pleasure. “I want to touch you and have you inside of me.”

She pushed him flat on his back, then ran her hand down his body and slipped it into his underpants the same way he’d done that to her.

His desperately hard manhood was in proportionate size to the rest of him. She’d suspected he might be, but the reality was a little overwhelming. She looked down at her hand then back up at his face.

He gave her a wry smile. “There’s some lube in my bag if we need it.”

Sansa looked down at his arousal again. She wanted to taste him, lick the bead of moisture she could see gathering on his tip. This was another difference to her previous experiences. Joffrey had always treated using her mouth for his enjoyment as a service she was obligated to provide for him. Sandor wasn’t saying anything either way, he was rubbing small reassuring circles into her hip but letting her take the lead. She bent down, pushed down his underwear and took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him. Her hair fell in a curtain to the side of her face and he brushed it back, gathering it into a loose knot around his fist.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispered, arching his back.

She’d only bobbed her head a few times before he gently tugged on her hair to stop her.

“Don’t use your mouth on my cock anymore,” he rasped. “You’re too fucking sexy. If you keep that up I’m going to blow my load like a fucking green boy.”

Sansa sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Do you want to be inside of me now then?”

“Fuck yes. But go slow, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sansa straddled him, sliding her wetness over his length, whimpering at the stimulation. She took him in hand, lined herself up then started to sink down onto him.

“Slowly,” he warned.

She whined as he stretched her, filling her more than she thought possible. He kept his hands on her hips, digging his fingertips into her flesh but letting her control her own motions.

“You feel so good,” she moaned.

“Come on girl, you can take all of my cock.”

She slid herself up and down, taking more of him each time. He skimmed one of his hands up her body and cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. She squirmed with the sensation, causing them both to moan.

When he was fully sheathed inside of her, she opened her eyes. He was watching her avidly. Her wantonness overwhelmed her, desperation for more pleasure. She tried to remember what sex had been like with Joffrey but her memories had retreated to a dim dark corner of her mind. All she had was the here and now and she had never experienced anything quite like this.

She ground herself against him, finding a rhythm that made him groan with desire and cause her to feel him more keenly inside of her. She leaned on his chest, sliding her fingers though the coarse hair there and he hissed a low noise of encouragement.

The wet sounds of their coupling should have been mortifying, but instead they aroused Sansa even more. She felt powerful and in control, that she was bringing them both such pleasure. The room had grown hot, and a bead of sweat ran down between her breasts. The smell of sex permeated the air, surrounding Sansa and spurring her on.

His body tensed under her hands as he sat up. He pulled her in for a kiss, open mouthed, raw and passionate. She responded with equal ferocity, rocking against him as they kissed, cradling his face between her hands.

“Fuck,” Sandor rasped, “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“That’s okay,” she gasped out against his lips.

He moved her hand from his face to between her legs so she was touching her own swollen clit as she writhed against him.

“That’s it Little Bird,” he murmured, “fuck yourself on my cock. Use my cock to get yourself off. I want to watch you come again.”

His words flooded her with desire, and she moaned, more loudly than before. She looked back at his face as she rubbed her own clit as she slid up and down his length. He watched her intently, his eyes dark and rapturous in the lamp light, but as she looked at him he shut his eyes and tilted his head back.

“Come on girl, come hard for me,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “You’re going to make me come too fucking soon.”

Her second climax overwhelmed her, and she felt herself throbbing desperately against the searing heat of his manhood thrusting into her.

Dimly she heard him say “Thank fuck,” as he pulled her hard against himself and groaned his own release.   

He pulled her down with him to lie back on the bed. She snuggled into him, laying her head on his shoulder and sleepily running her fingers through the hair on his chest. The physical and emotional release left her drained and while she thought she ought to go and clean up, instead she drifted off to sleep in Sandor’s embrace.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll admit, this was not what I intended to write for ch 10 (you’ll get that stuff in ch 11, provided I regain some self-control). But I’ve only written smut a couple of times before this fic and okay, well, it’s quite entertaining to write, so here, have a little more!
> 
> Also, thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos. I greatly appreciate them all <3

Sansa woke up in the night, sticky with an interesting variety of bodily fluids. Sandor’s front was plastered against her back, with a heavy arm slung over her waist. His breathing was deep and even. They’d pushed the blankets to the bottom of the bed but she was hot from the human furnace behind her. It was properly dark too, she realised, Sandor must have turned the lamp off after she fell asleep.

She shifted a little and Sandor grunted in his sleep, tightening the arm around her, pulling her more firmly against him. Was this how people usually undertook a friends-with-benefits arrangement? The whole experience had been more intimate and intense than she expected. And now cuddling? Was there supposed to be cuddling? She’d been too overwhelmed last night to really process what was happening. Upon reflection, she was a little embarrassed by how unrestrained she’d been. Touching herself in front of him like that. She’d never have considered doing that with Joff, who would have deemed it an insult to his masculinity and sexual prowess. Not that she’d thought there was much of either of those things to speak of, an opinion only confirmed by her experience with Sandor.

She should probably go and clean herself up, since it felt like one of Winterfell’s thermal pools had taken up residence between her legs, but it was so nice being cuddled like this. Sansa had missed being intimately close to another adult, she realised now. Kat provided plenty of kisses and cuddles, and she would hug and kiss her family, but that was different. Joffrey could occasionally be convinced to snuggle with her like this, and sometimes she’d agree to have sex with him just so he’d want to be close to her for a short time afterwards, but that was years ago now.

Sandor was an admirable person. His temperament could be politely described as ‘gruff’, he was abrupt when he spoke and said the f-word and, oh gods, the c-word constantly. Sansa’s thoughts drifted briefly to what he’d said when faced with her lady parts last night and she gave a shiver of renewed arousal. The way he seemed to appreciate her body was a relief. She didn’t know him very well, but he seemed to be a good man as well as a caring lover. Sansa wiggled her bottom against him and felt his manhood thickening against her. She wanted to have him inside of her again, she decided, but wasn’t sure if he’d welcome her waking him up.

She wiggled again and Sandor stirred, thrusting his hips against her a little.

“You awake?” he rumbled softly.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He nuzzled into the messy nest of hair at the back of her head. “You up for fucking again?”

Sansa snorted a laugh involuntarily at his crude phrasing echoing her previous thoughts. “Yes,” she replied between giggles.

“Glad you find my cock so amusing, girl,” he said wryly, but he didn’t sound annoyed at all.

He stroked his hand up her body and cupped her topmost breast, thumbing the nipple. She felt it tighten and pushed her bottom more firmly against him in response. He was fully hard now and ground himself against her body. She hummed and reached back to grasp his hip to steady herself as she rubbed against him.

He nudged her top leg and arm up out of the way and slipped his hand between her legs from behind, encountering the slick remains of their encounter last night.

He pressed his face into her hair again. “Mmm you’re fucking soaking,” he said, effortlessly sliding two fingers inside of her. “That’s fucking sexy.”

Sansa could only whimper and press back against him in response. She was a little tender, but she still wanted the fullness of him again.

“I want you inside of me,” she moaned.

“I’m already fucking you with my fingers, Little Bird,” he said softly, “they are right up inside your cunt.”

“But I need more,” she whined.

“Tell me you want my cock in you then.” He added a third finger and pumped them unhurriedly in and out.

“I want, I want…” she paused and huffed a breath, finding the words too difficult to say.

“If you want it, you have to say it.” He thrust his fingers all the way inside her and brushed his thumb very lightly over her clit.

“I want your cock,” she blurted quickly, feeling her face getting hot.

He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with the head of his manhood, pushing into her slowly.

Her breathing caught as she felt some discomfort.

Sandor stopped only partway inside her. “Sore after last time?” he rasped into her ear.

Sansa grumbled and tried to push back to impale herself further onto him, only to be stopped by his hand clamping down on her hip. “Only a little tender,” she said.

His forehead pressed against the back of her head. “I’m really fucking not into hurting you.”

“No it’s good, please keep going. I promise I’ll tell you if it doesn’t get better.”

Sandor grasped her breast again and rolled her nipple between his fingers. He began to move slowly, his breath hot on her neck. “This okay?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Please, it feels amazing now.”

The darkness blanketed her, the lack of light narrowing her focus down to the sensation of Sandor moving inside of her and the noises of pleasure they were both making.

His hand moved from her breast down to between her legs. His fingers circled her clit, copying the motions she’d made last night. The fact he’d been paying that much attention to how she pleasured herself was almost as arousing as his movements inside and against her body. “You come first, Little Bird,” he murmured.  

She arched her back and moaned again. “Keep touching me like that,” she whispered.

“That’s it, tell me what you need.”

“Harder too,” she said between panting breaths, desperately needing more of the pleasure building up inside her, “please.” She braced her hand against the headboard as his thrusting sped up.

“So fucking polite. But if you want it any harder than this, we’ll have to change position.”

“No,” she gasped out, “no, I’m so close. Please don’t stop.”

His fingers on her were relentless, and she realised she was moaning uncontrollably now, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Come on,” he growled, “I want to fucking hear you sing.”

She cried out and shook against his body as her climax finally hit.

He hummed approval then kept thrusting until he grunted out his own release soon after.

They stayed in the same position as they both caught their breath and he softened and slipped out of her. Safe, Sansa realised. She felt safe with Sandor curled around her like this.

Would Sandor be interested in continuing this as a regular arrangement, like she’d initially suggested when they talked at his work? He’d seemed to enjoy himself, and surely nights with her were a better prospect than random drunk women from bars. She hadn’t forgotten what he’d said about his previous experiences, that women only wanted his body but didn’t like to look at him.

She was getting sleepy again, but didn’t want to go to sleep without cleaning herself up this time. “I’m just going to have a quick shower,” she said.

Sandor let go of her and stretched, then rolled away to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and sit up. “I need to take a piss, too.”

Sansa stood up on wobbly legs and tottered towards her door. “Oh bathroom is opposite the entry to the hallway, you can go first.”

She reached out of the door and flicked the hallway light on so Sandor would be able to see. She blinked in the sudden, harsh illumination, remembering that she was still naked. Sandor eyed her up and down as he slipped past her, making an approving noise in the back of his throat. She huffed a laugh and tried not to be self-conscious.

Whilst Sandor was using the bathroom, Sansa found a baggy comfortable t-shirt to wear and some clean underpants. The top was a soft pink and had ‘The Wall National Park’ printed across it, with line drawings of various small birds fluttering around it. Jon had given it to her for her last Nameday and it was one of her favourites to sleep in. She smiled and thought Sandor might find it amusing.

Sandor came back into her room, still gloriously naked. She tried to keep her eyes on his face only, not wanting him to think she was ogling him. He looked at her then hummed and gently pressed her against the wall. He examined her face searchingly for several long moments, then bent down to kiss her. Sandor had obviously had a very brief freshen up because he smelled soapy and tasted of toothpaste. She dropped her bundle of clothing and cupped his face as they kissed. She made sure to run her fingertips over his scars to reassure him that they didn’t bother her.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said, a little unsteady from the kiss this time rather than the movement.

“I’ll be here,” he replied, picking up her discarded clothing and handing them to her.

Sansa showered and dressed in record time, fetched her phone from the coffee table then padded back to the bedroom, flicking off the hallway light on the way and using the torch function of her phone instead.

Sandor was still naked when she came back to bed, but he’d fallen asleep, on his side facing the opposite way to how they’d woken up.

He mumbled in his sleep when she sat cross legged on the edge of the bed. She only caught the words ‘bird’ and ‘sexy’ but she hoped he was talking about her. Either that, or he’d really enjoyed the puffin documentary they’d watched.

When Sansa checked her phone, she saw a message from Arya, sent last night. She had a flash of guilt that she’d been too distracted with Sandor to check her messages, though she knew Arya or Gendry would have knocked on her door had there been a problem.

 

**Arya [8.34pm]: Your Kat and dog r asleep (lol). Ate pizza and watched Dany and the fuckin sparkle dragons all evening. I’m definatly Team Rhaegal btw. Gendrys Team Viserion, the dick. Hope you enjoyed getting rogered by the Giant Knob™ (took me 10 fucking minutes to find that symbol, so pls appreciate the awesomeness of it) and that the big fucker attached to it behaved himself. SMS me when you get up.**

 

Sansa giggled at the distinctly Arya tone of the message. The answer could wait until the morning, she didn’t want to wake up Arya or Gendry with a reply.

She lay back down, wrinkling her nose at the damp patch on the sheet. She eyed the broad expanse of Sandor’s back. Waking up in an embrace was one thing. Was it acceptable for her to deliberately cuddle him? She decided to throw caution to the wind and do it, since he’d evidently been happy to sleep tangled together earlier.

She snuggled against his warm back, putting an arm over him and listening to his breathing.

His hand trailed up and over her arm, snaked down over her hip and gave her bottom a gentle grope, which was apparently sleeping Sandor’s signal of approval. She huffed a laugh against his skin, then shut her eyes and relaxed into sleep again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, back to something I actually intended to write!

**Sansa [7.04am] – I’m up. How are Kat and Lady?**

**Arya [7.04am] – Both busy eating theire bodyweight worth of scrambled eggs. How r u this morning????? ;)**

**Sansa [7.05am] – I’m good. Can I come over?**

**Arya [7.06am] – Of course you can fuckin come over. U don’t need to ask. U HAVE A KEY, SANSA, YOU CAN COME W/E.**

**Sansa [7.06am] – okay I’ll come over now.**

 

She stepped outside and took a breath of the crisp cold air, blinking in the early morning sunshine. Sansa frowned suddenly. She had the prickly feeling of being watched. Somewhat akin to when she took Kat to the godswood and stood in front of the heart tree, but this wasn’t a positive feeling like she got there. It reminded her of her later years in Kings Landing, when she had constantly been edgy and paranoid as things deteriorated so badly between her and Joffrey. Sansa looked around and frowned as she walked between the houses. Everything seemed normal, nothing was amiss. Joffrey was never far from her thoughts when she was afraid, but he’d been glad to see the back of her and Kat. She’d never considered that he’d intrude on their life here in Winterfell. She shook herself and dismissed the feeling as an idle fantasy.

Sansa knocked then opened the front door to Arya and Gendry’s house and walked in. She made an “Oof” noise as both Kat and Lady launched themselves at her in a flurry of limbs and fur.

“Mumma!” Kat buried her face in Sansa’s neck and tightened her little arms around her mother’s neck.

“I missed you, Kitty Kat,” Sansa said into Kat’s bright hair. Guilt at leaving her child for the night hit Sansa as thoroughly as desire for Sandor had only hours ago. There was a lump in her throat as she sat back on the floor, with Kat still attached and Lady now clambering on her lap for a cuddle.

“Lady?” said Kat, peering up into Sansa’s face.

“Yes I missed Lady too.” Sansa ran her hand over Lady’s silky fur.

Arya appeared, brandishing a coffee mug. “You want more eggs, Kat? Uncle Gendry made another batch.”

“Otay Yaya,” said Kat cheerfully, letting go of Sansa and toddling towards her Aunt with Lady at her heels.

“I heard Sandor’s motorbike earlier,” said Arya, offering Sansa a hand to help her up off the floor. “Did you kick him out?”

Sansa accepted Arya’s hand and stood back up. “Of course not. He got a call about a sick goat.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

“Arya. I didn’t kick him out. Everything was…” Sansa paused, recalling vividly the sensation of Sandor’s lips on her body, of him filling her up and moving inside her, holding her close. The previous guilt receded slightly in the face of another onslaught of desire. “Everything was, um, good.”

“You’ve gone all red. It must have been more than good because your face clashes horribly with your hair right now.” Arya flopped into a dining chair and looked contemplative. “Who’d have thought the huge bastard would have it in him to rock my sister’s world.”

Sansa sat down too, feeling her face get redder.

Gendry made a face from where he was dishing up an enthusiastic Kat another helping of scrambled eggs. “I don’t want to know what. I have to heal his Barbarian and can’t handle this kind of information.”

Arya made a gesture of dismissal. “Don’t be ridiculous Gendry, I’m sure you hear worse on your roleplaying nights.”

Gendry helped Kat up into a chair, laughing as the toddler began devouring more food with gusto. “Not really. Beric sometimes tries to convert us to R'hllor and Sandor tells him to shove it up his arse. Hot Pie flirts with Varys by bringing him cakes and not letting us have any. Pod makes everyone cups of tea. It’s very tame.”

Arya sighed and shook her head, then turned her attention back to Sansa. “Can I make you a tea or coffee?”

Sansa pulled her gaze away from where Lady was sitting patiently under Kat’s chair waiting for dropped food. “I’ll have a tea, but I can make it myself.”

“No it’s fine, I’ll make you one,” Arya said, smirking. “I’m sure you need to rest and recover.”  

Gendry made a horrified noise as he sat down at the table with his plate of breakfast.

Sansa make a face at Arya. “Thanks.”

Arya busied herself in the kitchen. “Will you be seeing him again?”

“I asked if he’d be interested in coming over either later one weeknight evening once Kat is settled or any weekend night that Kat has a sleepover with you. He hasn’t said yes yet though.” Sansa leaned over and ruffled Kat’s curls as the little girl looked up at the sound of her name.

Arya put the mug of tea down on a coaster in front of Sansa. “Ahh I see how it is, giving me your kid so you can get some action.”

Sansa had a wave of guilt again. “Gods, Arya, I’m so sorry, I…”

“Oh for fu…” Arya sat down and looked over at Kat, who was still quietly eating her eggs and regarding the adults with interest. “…for f-words sake, I’m joking, Sans. I like seeing Kat. We’re a pack, remember? We stick together. And if that means I look after your kid sometimes so you can get laid, then so be it.”

Sansa grimaced, but nodded. “Okay.”

“What happens when one of you catches feelings though?”

Sansa had another vivid recollection, this time of waking up in Sandor’s arms, tucked comfortably against his large warm body. “That won’t happen. This is just a friends-with-benefits arrangement.”

Arya made a dismissive gesture. “You’re obviously compatible physically.”

Sansa paused as she ate the forkful of eggs Kat offered her. “These are delicious, Gendry.” Sansa took a sip of the tea, gathering her thoughts. “Regardless, I’m not looking for a relationship. You know that.”

Arya stole a slice of buttered toast from Gendry’s plate. “Well, hopefully it doesn’t get awkward since Sandor will be back here tomorrow,” she said with her mouth full. “I have to spend the morning with him and the wolves, trying not to think about how he porked my big sister.”

Gendry choked on his coffee and Kat and Lady both looked at him with concern.

Sansa groaned. “Gods, Arya.”

Arya brightened and waved her ill-gotten slice of toast in the air. “Speaking of wolves, I got an email from Jon last night.”

“Oh yes?” said Sansa, looking at her sister over the rim of her mug.

“Jon said that Bran had made contact, asking him to phone Bran’s agent and let him know that the latest installation was almost finished.”

Gendry looked up with interest, still a little red from choking. “What’s this one made of,” he said, “faux weirwood toothpicks?”

“I believe so. It’s supposed to be a protest against the commercialism of letting Dany and the Sparkle Dragons tour north of the Wall.”

“I hope he finishes up soon,” said Sansa. “Kat’s never even met her Uncle Bran. Rickon either for that matter.”

Arya huffed a dramatic sigh. “I don’t reckon Rickon will ever leave Skagos. He’s taking this gap year thing too far.”

Their wheelchair-bound brother Bran Stark had made something of a name for himself as an avant-garde artist, living north of the Wall on the fringes of various Wildling settlements and creating large sculptures that reflected what he called the ‘corruption of the fabric of Westerosi society by toxic modernisation’. He’d done well for only being twenty-three years old, even if it did mean he was essentially a hermit, with only his carer for company. Tyrion Lannister had become a fan of his works when Sansa showed him some photos, and he’d set Bran up with a reputable agent as a favour for her. Their youngest brother Rickon Stark had disappeared off to Skagos shortly after finishing secondary school a few months ago, apparently to undertake a year of ‘personal growth and videography’. Sansa had seen the videos he posted online, they mostly seemed to involve daredevil stunts and attractive Skagosian women.

“Do you ever get the impression we’re the boring ones of the family?”

“Speak for yourself, Sansypants, I work with a pack of wolves.”

 

***

 

Early Monday morning, Sansa lifted the stroller down the steps of her house, with Kat toddling along behind her, clutching the bottom edge of her jacket. She didn’t have the sensation of being watched that she’d had yesterday. It must have been an unsettled fantasy after such an intense night on Saturday.

And Sandor was currently at Arya’s house, because they were visiting the wolves again this morning. She wasn’t sure if she should have messaged him yesterday. After collecting Kat and Lady she’d gone about her usual Sunday, walking to their local Farmer’s Market to buy some fresh food for the week. Kat always charmed the vendors and Lady got to enjoy some interesting smells. They’d gone home via a park so Kat (and Lady) could burn off some energy. They’d had delicious fresh market bread for lunch then a quiet afternoon at home. Every time Sansa had seen her phone, she’d wondered if she should be contacting Sandor. Thanking him? Was it polite to thank someone for enjoyable sex? Follow up her suggestion that they might meet again? In the end she’d decided she didn’t want to pressure him. This wasn’t a relationship, she needed to treat him like anyone else she was acquainted with. She’d say hello if she saw him, but it was fine if she didn’t. She took a long breath, and Kat looked up at her with a confused expression. Sansa realised she had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing Sandor, which was not part of any ‘treat him like any other person’ plan.

She could see Arya outside of her house, packing something into the back of her four-wheel drive truck. Sandor appeared, carrying several boxes that Arya took off him and packed into the truck.

“Look Kat, there’s Auntie Arya. Why don’t you run over to see her and say hello?”

“YAYA!” Kat screeched with joy and took off at a run, Sansa following behind her.

Arya smirked. “Good morning Sans. Kitty Kat.”

“Hey Arya. Sandor.”

“Morning,” Sandor rumbled.

“Wow Sansa,” said Arya loudly, bending down to give Kat a quick hug, “why would you be blushing?”

“Leave your sister alone you little shit,” Sandor said without heat.

Kat positioned herself in front of Sandor and gazed upwards at him, frowning slightly. “Hi Dodo,” she said gravely.

“Erm, hello,” said Sandor, sounding awkward.

Sansa looked between Kat and Sandor. The size difference between them was comically huge, even with Kat being tall for her age. “I can put her in the stroller if she’s bothering you?”

Arya looked at them and grinned. “You scared of a tiny girl, big guy?”

“She’s not bothering me, Little Bird.”

Kat narrowed her eyes, then held her arms up to Sandor. “Up,” she said authoritatively.

Sandor paused and Sansa took a step towards him, intending to distract Kat. Then he shrugged and picked the toddler up. “I’m not used to little kids,” he said. “They are usually scared of ugly old dogs.”

Kat pointed at the burned side of Sandor’s face when she was level with it. “Look!” she said.

Embarrassment flooded Sansa. The first encounter she’d had with Sandor since their night together had her child pointing out his disfigurement. She took another step towards them to intervene, but stopped when Arya flung an arm out to stop her. She frowned at Arya, who shook her head then nodded silently towards Sandor and Kat.

“Aye, Kitten, I got hurt a long time ago,” said Sandor, in the gentle voice she’d only heard in her bed.

Kat regarded him solemnly, then tenderly touched his scarred cheek. “Poor Dodo,” she said.

Sansa held her breath, watching them together. Sandor stared at her daughter, looking poleaxed as Kat babbled some words in toddler-speak and patted his scars, an expression of sympathy on her small face. Something twinged in Sansa’s chest as she watched them interact.

Arya interrupted the moment by saying “Hey Kitty Kat, do you want to go and jump on Uncle Gendry until he wakes up?”

“YES!” yelled Kat happily.

“You two can have five minutes alone,” said Arya, rolling her eyes at Sansa. “That’s all I’m giving you.”

She picked up Kat from Sandor’s arms and headed towards the house. She stopped after a few steps and pointed back at Sansa. “And no public nudity.”

Sansa laughed, despite her turbulent emotions. “Do I give you the impression I want to do that?”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Arya said darkly, but with a hint of a smile.

Sandor nodded towards Arya’s retreating back, where Kat was waving at them over her Aunt’s shoulder. “Your Kitten’s a nice kid. Fucking brave too, not scared off by my ugly mug.”

“I don’t think you are ugly Sandor,” Sansa said softly, “and clearly Kat has the good sense not to think so either.”

She looked at Sandor through her eyelashes. He seemed to be studying her intently, but he made no move towards her. “You didn’t message me,” he said abruptly. “You regret fucking me?”

Sansa’s jaw dropped. “What? Sandor no. Never.” She paused and tilted her head to the side quizzically. “Besides, you didn’t message me either.”

He eyed her again and hummed. “I didn’t want to remind you of any regrets you might have had.”

“Why? Do you regret our night together? Is that why you asked if I might?”

“Fuck no. I can’t stop thinking about your tits. And your cunt.” He gave a contented sigh and got a faraway look in his eyes. “Prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen.”

Sansa blinked. “Um. Thank you? I think.”

Did her intention to treat Sandor like any other person count when presented with an opportunity for kissing? Sansa seized Saturday night’s bold intentions with both hands and advanced towards him. She pushed him gently towards Arya’s enormous truck and he leaned back against it. She took two handfuls of his shirt and stood on tiptoes to kiss him.

He bought his hands up to span her waist, holding her against his firm body. His kisses were more confident than they had been, and Sansa rapidly realised that kissing Sandor may have been an error of judgement because she was now desperately aroused and had to go to work in a few minutes.

“I thought I might wake up this morning and find out Saturday night was a fucking fever dream,” he murmured against her lips. “But here you are. Kissing me. On purpose.”

Sansa pressed herself even more closely to him. He was hard against her stomach, and Sansa was relieved that she wasn’t the only one so intensely affected by the kissing. “Did you want to come over one night this week? Kat’s usually asleep before seven thirty, and she’s a deep sleeper.”

“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to turn down another chance to fuck you. Are you free tomorrow night?”

Sansa privately doubted her ability to not spontaneously combust if she had to wait that long, but she didn’t want to seem needy. “That sounds perfect.”

Arya’s voice sounded from the house. “Times up! If anyone has taken off their pants, then I’m getting the hose out. PREPARE FOR A DELUGE OF COLD WATER.”

Sandor huffed a laugh against her mouth. “I’ll see you then.”  


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and… well, I want to say sweet, but you can make up your own mind on that one!

“Now here we have the glass gardens. Even though we now possess the technology to import perishable foods, we keep the glass gardens as a fully functioning vegetable garden and orchard through all seasons. It’s important to be prepared, after all, winter is coming.”

Sansa paused for the usual polite laughter from her tour group.

“And if you will look over to your left,” she continued, “there are some fine examples of our famous blue winter roses. They are an important part of the Stark family history, and if you care to stop at our gift shop at the conclusion of this tour, you can find copies of the collected works of Bael the Bard available for purchase. The book contains photographs of sculptures by local artist Brandon Stark, himself a namesake of Lord Brandon Stark who features in the story with the blue roses.”

There was an interested murmur amongst the group. Sansa hoped that would translate into purchases. Stannis had been in a dreadful mood when she arrived at work this morning, storming around the kitchens and muttering under his breath. Any financial windfall at the gift shop always cheered him up.

Sansa gave her best customer service smile. “Some finest quality organic handmade artisan Dornish silk replica winter roses are also available for purchase, you’ll find a display of them beside the gift shop counter.”

She gave herself a metaphorical pat on the back for the extra advertising, especially as it was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays tended to be their quietest day.

The Westerosi Historical Society had done an excellent job of tidying up the glass gardens, but they were chronically short of funds. Not as much as her family had been growing up though. Stately homes took an obscene amount of money to maintain, and try as her parents might, there was never enough money to keep in top of everything. She and her siblings had played in the glass gardens as children, climbing the ancient fruit trees and picking the straggly overgrown winter roses for their mother whenever they were in bloom. Stannis and Davos had poured their hearts into Winterfell since they took over running it, and it showed in the care and maintenance. Sansa didn’t begrudge them the merchandise and tour groups. Any extra money helped, even if she wasn’t so fussed on the grey ‘Winter is Coming’ t-shirts Davos had recently introduced to the gift shop. 

“If you will just follow me, we shall proceed past the north gate.”

As she led her little flock of tourists out of the gardens, she had the same prickly sense of being watched again. Without thinking, she spun around towards the group. They all stopped and stared at her as she looked wildly around.

“Are you alright, Miss?” said a white-haired man at the front of the gathered people.

The sensation vanished almost as soon as it had appeared, and Sansa felt stupid for being so paranoid.

She plastered a smile back on her face. “My apologies, I thought I saw a rare Winterfell starling,” she lied. “Do let me know if you also see one.”

She led the group out of the gardens and past the north gate. She felt the buzzing of a message from the phone she had in her pocket. Instantly the warm sensation of aroused anticipation replaced her unease. Before work she’d summoned her courage and taken a photo of herself to send to Sandor, as tonight was supposed to be their second night together. Sansa’s cheeks grew hot as she thought about it and hoped none of the tour group noticed. She’d had the idea as she was getting dressed, and she’d taken what she hoped was a tasteful photo of her chest, wearing only her blue bra with her long hair flowing down over her breasts. Before she could lose her nerve she’d sent it to Sandor, with a message saying that she was looking forward to their liaison tonight. She hadn’t received a reply before the tour started and was now curious to see his reaction. She’d never sent a racy message to anyone before, and found she enjoyed the pleasantly naughty feeling it brought.

Sansa took a deep breath, focusing back on her job. “And this is the entrance to the Winterfell crypts. If you are interested in a tour of the crypts with a focus on respect for the Stark ancestors and an overview of the architectural and historical features of the structures, Davos Seaworth conducts a tour on the evening of the first Sunday in every month. Bookings are essential as it is very popular. Now we will just pause a moment so you may take photographs of the crypt entrance.

As her group gathered around the stone arch, phones at the ready, Sansa surreptitiously looked at the screen on her own phone.

 

**Sandor [9.33am]: You are fucking sexy. If I wasn’t at work I’d show you how hard my cock is for you right now.**

 

Sansa squeaked and turned off her screen, looking quickly around to see if anyone else had seen the message. Luckily they were all distracted by taking photographs. Her legs had gone all wobbly with an interesting combination of arousal and embarrassment at his message. What was the correct response when someone mentioned their manhood in relation to a scantily clad photo you sent them? Sansa looked around to ensure no one was too nearby, then quickly typed her reply.

 

**Sansa [9.45am]: I wish I could see it ;)**

 

She stuffed the phone back in her pocket and assumed what she hoped was a professional appearance.

Sansa cleared her throat. “Now if everyone has finished?” She waited while the group reassembled, willing her arousal to go away. Or at least, decently hide for the duration of the tour. “Let’s move on to the old guard’s hall, currently set up as a replica for how it would have appeared in the period just prior to the first Dance of the Dragons.”

She opened the heavy doors to the hall, holding one open as she beckoned the group inside.

“Now please note the lovingly reconstructed furniture and suits of armour. Traditionally, House Stark guards wore chainmail shirts and coifs, or steel caps as needed, with a grey cloak and a badge made from northern silver. If you look to your left, you can see a mannequin wearing the full set of armour.”

Her phone buzzed again as she walked slowly through the hall. Her palms got a little sweaty, slipping on the doors at the far end as she opened them and walked out into the main courtyard.

“The main courtyard has been divided into two sections, private residences now are located along the edge of the godswood, and access to them is via the south gate. If you proceed to your left, you can see the old Sept, built by one of the old Lords for his southern wife. We will pause again so you may examine the lovely examples of religious art that decorate the interior.”

As soon as the group was distracted, Sansa looked at her phone again. She stifled a gasp. Sandor had responded to her last message literally, sending a picture of his erect manhood.

 

**Sandor [9.59am]: [image] I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight.**

 

Arousal had overcome embarrassment and seemed to have knocked it to the ground and was stomping on it. No one was near her, so she opened the message and looked at the photo full screen. Sandor must have taken it in the bathroom mirror at his work, because he was wearing his vet scrubs. He’d tugged down the front of his pants and was holding his top up so she could see some of his muscular stomach. She wished all of him was visible, but the picture only showed his torso and half of his thighs. If someone wanted to make a pornographic film about a sexy veterinarian and an inappropriately turned on tour guide, this exchange would serve nicely as the first act. Sansa’s hand was shaking a little as she replied to the message.

 

**Sansa [10.11am]: I wish you were here, I’m so wet right now. I want you to bend me over that counter and take me.**

 

She pressed send before she could chicken out. That was without doubt the filthiest thing she’d ever committed to writing. She grinned at the phone, pleased by her boldness.

One of the older ladies approached her, and she hurriedly put her phone away. “You look flushed,” said the kindly looking woman, “are you alright my dear?”

Sansa smiled politely. “Oh, thought I saw another Winterfell starling. It flew by so quickly, you know how little birds can be. Seeing one would be so exciting, watching it in its natural habitat and all that.”

The lady nodded. “Yes, I agree. We can all keep an eye out for it.”

Sansa raised her voice. “The main hall is the final stop on our tour, please follow me and mind your step at the entrance.”

Her phone buzzed as they walked into the hall. She was a little surprised to hear from Sandor again so soon, since she knew he was usually busy during the day.

“There are tables and chairs here for customers at our café, our chef Stannis Baratheon is known across the north for his focus on fiery flavours and local produce. Might I direct your attention to the walls, you can examine the many historical tapestries that the Westerosi Historical Society has organised to be restored to their former glory and hung out for all to enjoy.”

Sansa pulled her phone out far enough that she could glance at the screen.

 

**Sandor [10.19am]: I will make you cum so hard that you sing for me. Until tonight.**

 

Sansa’s heart was racing, but she gave her best benign smile for the group when they had had their fill of the tapestries. “And that concludes the tour. I hope you’ve all had an enjoyable time here at Winterfell, and please feel free visit our gift shop and café before you go.”

As soon as the group had scattered, Sansa whipped out her phone.

**Sansa [10.29am]: Until tonight xox**


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did not intend this fic to be so smutty, but, well, here we are....

Sansa clutched the headboard of her bed with one hand, appreciating the cool wood as she leaned her forehead against it. She pressed her other hand against her mouth, desperately trying to stifle her moans. The last thing she wanted to do was make so much noise that Kat would hear her through their shared wall and wake up, even if the little girl was a sound sleeper.

She felt she ought to be self-conscious, because the lamp was on again and Sandor had a very intimate and potentially unflattering view of her body. He had, however, been murmuring both the c-word and the word ‘perfect’ in between bouts of gliding his tongue over her, so she had decided to accept that he was, indeed, happy with the current situation.

She wanted to look down at where she was grinding herself over Sandor’s face, but she was already shiveringly overstimulated. His hands spanned her hips and bottom, holding her against his questing tongue. His ability to breathe properly had concerned her initially when he suggested she straddle his face, but that worry had vanished in the wake of what he was making her feel. Besides, given that he could still swear, he was presumably able to breathe.

His tongue hit a particularly good spot, and she moved her hand enough to gasp out “There, yes there.”

He growled in agreement, then focused on repeating the movements of his tongue.

Sansa clamped her lips together behind her hand so she wouldn’t be any louder, dimly aware that she was making some very unladylike sounds of ecstasy in the back of her throat. Sandor hit that perfect spot again and pleasure crashed over her. She let go of the headboard, trusting that Sandor would hold her in place, and arched her back as she climaxed, stifling her moans behind both hands now.

She flopped sideways, falling onto the bed in an undignified heap. Her limbs were like overcooked noodles and she drifted in the wake of her orgasm. Without opening her eyes, she blindly felt in Sandor’s direction, tugging him towards her.

He snorted a laugh and leaned over to kiss her. She tangled a hand in his hair, returning his kiss sloppily, tasting herself all over his face. His beard was damp with her wetness, which, to Sansa’s surprise, she found outrageously erotic. There was no hesitation in his kisses anymore, and Sansa wondered again if he’d never had much practice until her. Perhaps he’d initially expected her to dislike being so close to his face and had been ready to back off immediately. That possibility made her kiss him harder, scratching her nails along his scalp. He obviously knew his way around a woman’s body, and the idea that his previous partners had been happy to use him for their own pleasure but not allow him the simple intimacy of kissing made Sansa angry.

“I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he murmured against her lips.

Sansa loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, her body still languid from her peak. “I’ve been thinking about you too.” Her voice sounded breathy and relaxed. “It was hard to concentrate because I kept imagining what we would be doing tonight.”

He kissed his way down her neck. “After you sent me that fucking sexy photo this morning? I wanted to fuck you until you screamed.”

Sansa moaned softly, her arousal spiking again. “Why don’t you do that now then?”

“I will, but tits first.” He moved down further and lapped at her breast, then took her nipple into his mouth and gently sucked.

“I liked the photo you sent me too.” Sansa’s voice was wavering because of what Sandor was doing to her breast. She felt her face get hotter as she recalled the explicit photo of Sandor’s manhood.

“I can’t believe I fucking did that.” He rubbed his bearded cheek over her nipple, and she moaned with the stimulation. “And at work. I’m lucky as fuck nobody caught me.”

“I liked that you sent it to me. I really liked that.”

He manoeuvred himself so he was on top of her, though still bearing his own weight.

“How do you want my cock?” he murmured into her ear.

Sansa writhed with anticipation. “I want you on top of me, like this.”

“You tell me if it’s too much.”

Sansa wound her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his bottom. “I will,” she breathed, “but now I need you inside of me.”

He lined himself up and pushed slowly into her. She pressed her forehead into the front of his shoulder, clutching his arms. The stretch of him was just on the good side of uncomfortable.

She wrapped herself around him as best she could as he moved inside her. Sansa was able to pay more attention than she had on their last night together, when sensations had overwhelmed her. This time she noticed his grunting breaths, the way his muscles bulged with the effort, the clean male scent of him. She moved her hips to match his rhythm, being rewarded for doing so by a pleased rumble of affirmation from Sandor. She lost herself in the primal act, pleasure sparking from their mutual enjoyment.

After some time he sat back on his heels, still inside her, still moving, and reached down to rub his fingers over her clit. Almost but not quite what she needed.

“Can you get off like this,” he murmured, “or so you need me to touch you differently?”

She hummed and moved her hand down, sliding under his, demonstrating again how she liked to be touched. He watched intently, his brow furrowed in concentration.

After a few moments he gently nudged her hand away so he could resume rubbing her. “Play with your tits,” he rasped. “That’s sexy as fuck.”

Sansa moaned as she moved both hands to pinch her own nipples, with Sandor watching her motions avidly. Pinpricks of pleasure went from her breasts straight down to her centre, and Sansa marvelled that she’d spent her entire life not knowing how good sex could be.

She stared down at where they were joined, where his hand was moving over her. She was close now, her breath heaving as he continued to slide in and out of her. Sandor moaned and swore as she clenched her internal muscles around him. His body slapped against hers as he sped up his movements, and the scandalously wet sound of their joining was what sent Sansa over the edge. She cried out as she peaked, remembering at the last moment to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise.

Sandor leaned forward again, hands either side of her head, and bent his head to kiss her. She looped her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth as he started pounding into her, chasing his climax. He kept his lips just touching hers, and as he groaned into her mouth upon his own release, Sansa was touched by the intimacy of the gesture.

He kissed her softly when he’d caught his breath, then rolled off her onto his back.

They lay in silence, side by side. Sansa’s mind raced as she tried to think of what to say and do. She ought to go to the bathroom and clean herself up, but she didn’t want to disrupt the moment.

“So,” she said eventually, “how was your day?”

There was another lengthy pause. Sansa wondered if she shouldn’t have spoken. Was asking him about his day too personal?

Sandor’s voice was dry when he spoke. “Aside from the sexting?”

Sansa rolled onto her front and rested her head on her folded arms, facing Sandor. She smiled at him. “Aside from that, yes.”

Sandor turned on to his side to face her, leaning his head on his hand. “Well I ate lunch with one of the dogs today.”

Sansa laughed. “Why did you eat lunch with a dog?”

“Last week she got dropped off by some people who found her in a fucking dumpster,” Sandor said, running his free hand up her flank, his hand rough on her delicate skin. “We hadn’t been able to convince her to eat properly. Even Pod couldn’t get through to her and he’s usually good with the scared ones.”

Sansa wiggled closer to him so she could stroke her foot against his. “Oh that’s so sad.”

To Sansa’s surprise, Sandor rubbed his foot back against hers as he spoke. “So I put my lunch in a dog bowl,” he said, “and sat in her cage to eat. Stranger came too, they’ve taken a shine to each other.”

“You ate lunch sitting a cage with a cat and a dog, eating out of a dog bowl?”

“I did.”

“That’s such a lovely gesture.”

Sandor gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s just my job.”

Sansa stared at him in the low light. Her chest hurt at the thought of him sitting in a cage to help an abused and scared animal. That he would choose to do such a kind thing and dismiss it as nothing. “What’s her name?”

Sandor looked abashed. “Marigold,” he muttered.

Sansa involuntarily squeaked with joy. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“I named her after my halfling barbarian,” replied Sandor, still looking shamefaced.

“That is seriously adorable.”

“Why am I not surprised you think that?” Sandor gave her one of his rare smiles. “I’m considering adopting her. Stranger lives with me when he’s not fucking around at the clinic and they are good together.”

“That would be great, Marigold and Lady could have playdates!” Sansa paused and frowned, realising she’d never asked Sandor what his housing situation was. She couldn’t imagine he’d have the inclination to have housemates, but she didn’t know his circumstances. “Where do you live?”

Sandor ran his fingers over her skin again, humming in what Sansa interpreted as appreciation as he tenderly cupped a breast. “Beside the clinic. I bought the blocks of land and built the clinic, shelter and my house.”

Sansa squinted, trying to recall what the houses nearby the clinic looked like. “I wish I’d paid more attention to the surroundings.”

“I’ll show you my place if you want, next time you bring your pup for her checkup.”

Sansa freed the arm nearest to Sandor and then idly stroked his chest hair. “I’d like that. What kind of dog is Marigold?”

“She’s an orange Dornish mastiff. How the fuck she ended up this far north is beyond me.”

Pausing with her hand pressed against the firm muscles of Sandor’s chest, Sansa said, “Wait, so she’s a red head too?”

Sandor sighed heavily. “Yes. I am surrounded by gingers. Tormund thinks it’s fucking hilarious.”

Sansa ran the back of her thumbnail over Sandor’s nipple, smiling as he gave a low growl in response. “Does he know about our, um, arrangement then?”

“I don’t talk about you like that,” he said, then paused and took the hand she had on his chest and bought it up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, “but he suspects something is going on between us. He has since the day you showed up at work and demanded my cock.”

Sansa gave an outraged huff of breath. “I did not demand… I did not demand that!” She rolled her eyes at his grin. “Anyway, I don’t mind people knowing.”

“I don’t want them to think less of you,” said Sandor, shaking his head, “that you’d fuck an ugly old cunt like me.”

Sansa scowled and cupped his burned cheek. “There is nothing wrong with f…” she coughed, unable to say the word at that moment, “with sleeping with you. I would never care about the opinion of anyone who would think there was. We’re both adults, we can do what we want.”

Sandor raised his eyebrows. “You are sexy when you get outraged, even if you do have shit taste in men.”

Sansa growled and lunged at him. He huffed a laugh and let her push him back against the bed. She put a hand on each of his shoulders and kissed him, trying to infuse her kisses with the feeling that he was a good man, and neither ugly nor old.

“Sandor?” she said when they paused to catch a breath.

“Mmm?” he replied, rolling her to lie on top of him properly.

His chest hair tickled her nipples, and she squirmed against him. “How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-six. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. A whole decade younger than you.” She wiggled up his body so she could gently nip the earlobe on the undamaged side of his head. “Perhaps you are right, maybe you are an old man,” she whispered into his ear, then laughed quietly so he would know she didn’t mean it.

She squeaked as he suddenly flipped them both over so she was under him again. He pinned her hands above her head and bent down to kiss her. She squirmed in his grasp, but she didn’t try to get free.

It was unexpectedly sexy. He wasn’t hurting her at all, but he’d been so gentle in their encounters thus far. This was the most forceful he’d been, but she still felt completely safe.

“You okay?” he said when he broke the kiss, still keeping her hands pinned.

“Yes,” she moaned, and raised her head for another kiss.

He kissed along her jawline and neck, trailing his lips over her sensitive skin. Affection for him swelled in Sansa’s chest and she held her breath. He was such a good man. She remembered when she first started dating Joffrey; he had been extraordinarily attractive, and gallant and she’d been overwhelmed by the novelty of being physically attracted to someone and having that person woo her. She’d been giddy with the idea of Joffrey, he’d seemed like a knight in shining armour, perfect and far superior to other men. But the reality of Sandor had proved to be so much better than she would have expected. He wasn’t just a compelling ideal, he was a real person with flaws but even more strengths. A man who also spent his days helping animals. He was a generous lover who was kind and gentle in his own unique way.

She shifted uneasily at the direction her thoughts had been taking. Feelings were not supposed to get involved. This was supposed to be a physical arrangement with a man of her acquaintance.

Sandor ran his hand over her bare hip. “Ready for another fuck?” he whispered against her neck.

“Oh yes,” Sansa said with relief, pleased to chase away her troublesome emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was scrolling through Facebook yesterday and saw a viral video about a vet who sat in a cage with a terrified dog and ate meals with her to encourage her to eat and I thought I MUST BORROW THAT IDEA FOR MY FIC!
> 
> Also I'm on Tumblr @orangetabbywrites so feel free to come say Hi!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get geeky in here… (no, that is not a euphemism for more smut. I do, in fact, mean geeky!)
> 
> Also! My August is going to be crazy busy so I’m not sure how much writing I’ll be able to get done, but I shall try my best.

**Sansa [2.34pm] – Hey can we stay with you and Gendry tonight? There was a gas leak at my house and we need to let the air clear.**

**Arya [2.35pm] – that’s fine. The boys are having their Friday RPG night there, and I won’t be home til late but they won’t care if you are there.**

**Sansa [2.35pm] – thanks. Where are you off to?**

**Arya [2.37pm] – the sheets r clean on the spare bed. Gd luck sharing the bed with Kat, she takes up more fuckin room than Gendry does lol. I’m with the wolves doing observations on the pups, need to keep it going until night.**

**Sansa [2.38pm] – oh that sounds fun. And cute! I’ll have one tiny corner of the bed and Kat and Lady will end up with the rest I bet. I’ll be up when you get home, I’ll just read on the couch**

**Arya [2.39pm] – b honest. U just want to stare at Sandor. Japes on u though, I’ve watched those nerds do their game and trust me, its not sexy.**

**Sansa [2.40pm] – I do not want to stare at him! We are both adults who are in control of themselves.**

**Arya [2.40pm] – U will be thinking about Sandor’s magical tongue. WHILE U R SITTING ON MY COUCH. NOOOOOO.   :o :O :O :O      D: D’:**

**Sansa [2.41pm] – ARYA STARK. I SHOULD NEVER HAVE TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT!**

**Arya [2.41pm] – DO NOT FUCK SANDOR CLEGANE IN MY SPARE ROOM SANSA STARK.**

**Sansa [2.42pm] – KAT AND LADY WILL BE IN THERE! I WOULD NEVER DO THAT!**

**Arya [2.42pm] – DO NOT FUCK SANDOR CLEGANE ON MY COUCH SANSA STARK.**

**Sansa [2.43pm] – Arya! I have not turned into some kind of sex fiend.**

**Arya [2.43pm] – So u say………!**

 

***

 

Gendry took Sansa’s empty dinner plate. “Are you sure you don’t mind us having our boys night here? Arya won’t be back until at least ten.”

Sansa flapped her left hand at him whilst spooning custard into Kat’s mouth with her right. “No please, I don’t want to make you change your plans. Besides, Kat will sleep through anything, and it doesn’t bother me.”

Lady leaned against Sansa’s leg, avidly watching the movement of the spoon, clearly hoping for some custard to drip.

“WahWah!” interjected Kat, pointing to her plush wolf, who was sitting on the dining table looking worse for wear after weeks of aggressive toddler love.

“Yes, sweetling, WahWah is a good sleeper too, just like you.” The custard finally dripped, and Lady enthusiastically lapped it off the floor.

“You are welcome to join in? I’m sure Varys would let you play as one of the NPC characters for the session.”

Sansa shook her head. “Honestly, it’s fine. I grabbed a book to read. Besides, it’s been a long day. Stannis is having some kind of family issue and he’s been grumpier than usual, and Davos had me helping to plan the charity dinner that’s coming up next month. I’m so tired. I just want to sit and read and not use my brain for a while.”

“Alright so long as you are sure.”

Sansa (and Lady) got Kat ready for bed whilst Gendry cleaned up after dinner, a process only hindered by Kat embracing Gendry before Sansa had cleaned her face after dessert. She left a perfect mouth print in custard on his jean-clad thigh. Sansa apologised profusely but Gendry only laughed and picked Kat up for a cuddle while Sansa wiped her mouth.

She settled Kat into the spare bed, lining pillows on either side of the double bed so the toddler wouldn’t roll out and on to the floor. Once Kat was settled, read to and kissed goodnight, Sansa helped Gendry with a last-minute tidy up. The main mess was Arya’s old wolf observation notebooks that were scattered all over the couch, amongst which Lady had made a nest. Gendry bribed Lady off them with a temptingly arranged pillow, blanket and slice of cheese.

Hot Pie and a bald man were the first guests to arrive. Sansa answered the door as Gendry was getting changed into less custardy clothes. Hot Pie was holding a tray perched on top of a folder. The tray held a spectacular looking chocolate cake, which glistened invitingly underneath the layer of cling wrap that blanketed it. A small bag dangled from Hot Pie’s fingertips, making faint rattling noises as he moved. The bald man had a large box containing what looked like a variety of cardboard cutouts, paper and figurines. She spied a dragon at the top that closely resembled a more realistic and less glittery version of one of Kat’s Dany and the Sparkle Dragons figurines.  

Hot Pie beamed when he saw her. “Good evening Sansa. Have you met Varys? Varys this is Sansa Stark. Sansa, this is Varys.”

Sansa shook Varys’s hand as he balanced the box on his one arm. He didn’t pass her automatic Ned Stark handshake firmness test. “Good to meet you Varys.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Stark,” said Varys as they walked inside.

“Just Sansa is fine,” she said courteously, if a little coolly.

“But you are the Lady of Winterfell are you not? You are the oldest of the Stark children after the tragic loss of your older brother?”

Sansa frowned. “Yes I am, though I never thought in those terms. Winterfell is in public hands now.”

“I hear that you intend to grace the charity dinner at Winterfell with your presence. That is certainly a good sign for the Baratheon political ambitions.”

Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead smiled politely. She had no time for politics. It had been the one thing she and Joffrey agreed upon. His grandfather, Tywin Lannister, one of Kings Landing’s most prominent businessmen had always encouraged his grandson to get into politics but Joffrey had resisted. Joff’s estranged father had apparently been involved in politics in some way, but none of the Lannister children would talk about him. “Well,” she said neutrally, “there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, and after so many years away it’s time for me to do my part.”

Varys gave a breezy laugh. “Quite, quite,” he said.

Gendry came through in time to distract from any more awkward conversation. “I see you’ve bought a cake,” he said, eyeing the tray Hot Pie was still clutching, “are we allowed any of this one?”

Hot Pie looked affronted as he tenderly placed the tray on the dining table, sliding the thick folder out from underneath as he did so. “Of course. It’s a triple chocolate mud cake with an experimental chocolate and whiskey liqueur ganache of my own creation. I need you all to taste test it for me.”

“Sounds delicious,” said Sansa. “The perfect thing to eat while curled up with a cup of tea and a book.”

Hot Pie nodded towards the folder, the front of which featured a lovingly drawn illustration of a generously bosomed woman with pointed ears, wearing a chainmail bikini and holding a lute. “Or whilst roleplaying a sexy elven bard.”

Sansa hummed, eyeing the gravity defying breasts of the elf. “Of course,” she said neutrally.

Podrick arrived next, turning a delicate shade of pink when she greeted him, but returned the salutation. Lady was very pleased to see him, even leaving the majesty of her pillow/blanket bed to greet him and Sansa recalled they must have spent a lot of time together after the puppy was rescued.

Sansa leaned on the kitchen bench and watched the men set up the table for their session, wondering when Sandor would be arriving. She hadn’t seen Sandor since he’d left on Wednesday morning after their second night spent together. He’d woken up early, given her a spectacular ‘good morning’ with his tongue then quietly left when she’d fallen back into a happy and sated sleep. Part of Sansa wanted the sweet domesticity of him having breakfast with her and Kat, but she understood that he might consider that too intimate for the terms of their arrangement. She found herself wanting to spend time with him outside the confines of her bedroom though. As soon as Davos had enlisted her help in the final preparations for the charity dinner, she’d considered asking Sandor along as her partner. She wasn’t sure how he’d take an invitation though, if he’d want to publicly associate himself with her. Being bold was one thing, but she didn’t want to force him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with.

The arrival of the man himself interrupted her train of thought. He was with a tall, smiling man with an eyepatch whom Gendry introduced as Beric Dondarrion. Sandor gave her a nod and the ghost of a smile on the undamaged half of his face. Lady hurled herself at Sandor with even more vigour than she had for Podrick, wagging her entire body and yipping with excitement. The vet showed more emotion then, kneeling and patting the puppy, giving Lady a full smile.

The session looked like it was about to start now that the group were all here, so Sansa took her book, a history of Free Folk culture and folklore she’d borrowed from Ygritte, and sat on the couch. She positioned herself sideways, sinking into the knitted folds of her oversized grey jumper, so she could lean on the armrest and have a clear view of the activities on the dining table. She was curious as to what their roleplaying session would entail. Her entire experience of roleplaying consisted of the time Joffrey had wanted her to wear a skimpy ‘naughty nurse’ outfit and sponge bath him. Which, to be fair, had ended up as more enjoyable sex with Joffrey than was generally the case, but had had the unfortunate effect of leaving her even more unsatisfied than usual.

Varys propped up a whiteboard as the men chatted amongst themselves. He’d inscribed a list of names down the left-hand side with little pictures beside them.

 

**Hot Pie – elven bard – Esmereldina Flaps**

**Gendry – dwarf cleric – Granok the Beardless**

**Sandor – halfling barbarian – Marigold the Tiny**

**Beric – Tiefling sorcerer – Paimon Cameltoe**

**Podrick – half-elf paladin – Ser Roderick of Paynetown**

 

Sansa’s gaze went straight to Sandor’s character. Marigold the Tiny was depicted as a small woman with bright red hair and an enormous battle axe. She smiled at the idea of him playing such a small character. She glanced at him through her eyelashes. He was shuffling bits of paper around, frowning in concentration. He wore a similar expression when he was touching her intimately, she realised, when he was concentrating intently on giving her pleasure. The now familiar flush of arousal swept over her and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Sansa?”

She squeaked and jumped, looking wildly at Pod, who stood at the end of the couch looking bashful. “Yes?” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’m making hot drinks for everyone, would you like one? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?”

Sansa cleared her throat. “Oh, thank you Pod. Yes, tea please, milk but no sugar.”

Sansa attempted to concentrate on her book as Podrick made and delivered the drinks. Sandor had a black coffee. Not that she was paying him particular attention.

Sansa tried not to be disappointed that he hadn’t greeted her with more enthusiasm. She’d gotten more of a reaction out of Beric, who’d looked incredulously between her and Sandor several times, then punched Sandor on the arm and whispered something in the vet’s ear that caused him to raise his middle finger and roll his eyes at his friend. A nod and part of a smile from Sandor was far more than he gave anyone else here.

It wasn’t like they were anything more than friends, and he wasn’t a demonstrative man. He was one of Arya’s close friends and their usual greetings were telling each other to f-word off, so a nod was practically a declaration of love from him.

Sansa gulped and squashed that line of thought as soon as it arose. She took a large mouthful of her tea, wincing and then choking as it burned her throat on the way down.

“Are you okay, Sansa?” said Gendry, giving her a concerned glance from his seat over at the table.

“Yes,” she replied hoarsely, “just an exciting part of my book.”

Varys shot her a sceptical look, but stood up and motioned for silence. With great ceremony he laid a sheet of cardboard with what looked like a map of a small town on it in the middle of the table. “You have all ridden into the town of Sandpoint upon your mighty steads,” he said in a loud voice. “Except you, Granok the Beardless, you are riding your goat.”

“How come I’m stuck on a goat and you have a huge horse? You’re practically the size of a large housecat,” Gendry muttered to Sandor.

“I earned the traditional Shoanti war steed through my heroism,” replied Sandor smugly. “Not my problem your people are shitty goat herders.”

Varys clapped his hands. “Less table chatter please.” He looked around sternly. “You have all ridden into Sandpoint, and you notice that the town guards are more numerous than usual. What do you want to do?”

“We should head back to the Rusty Dragon Inn,” said Pod dreamily.

Beric narrowed his eye. “You just want to go there because you fucked the Innkeeper.”

Pod blinked. “But by the grace of the divine Iomedae we have permanent rooms there now.”

“More like by the grace of the divine Innkeeper Ameiko Kaijitsu, after you rocked her world Pod.” Beric leaned over to nudge Podrick in the ribs.

“We should also visit Sheriff Belor Hemlock,” said Sandor, absently rolling a large dice over his knuckles. Sansa found herself briefly enraptured with watching his hands move, squirming as she recalled what else those hands could do.

“And the Sage,” interjected Hot Pie. Sansa shifted her focus resolutely away from Sandor and his long fingers. “We need information from him.”

“What was the Sage’s name again?” said Gendry, leafing through a battered notebook. “Pubert Twink?”

Varys emitted a long-suffering sigh. “Brodert Quink,” he said crisply.

“At least these characters have normal sounding names.” Sandor flicked the dice up into the air and caught it. “What the fuck is up with your character name, Podrick. I can’t even fucking say it.

“Ser Roderick of Paynetown,” said Pod patiently. “Just call me Ser Rod.”

Beric studied the map intently. “I wonder if the town residents are wrestling any greased pigs today. That festival we had at the start of the campaign was good fun. Except for when that dastardly halfling fixed the lizard races and made me lose.”

Sandor rasped a laugh. “Any excuse to get shirtless and lubed up, you Tiefling demon-bastard. And you’re being racist against halflings.”

Varys hissed a long breath through his nose. He closed his eyes and his lips moved silently. Sansa suspected he was counting to ten in order to calm down. “Gentlemen. What would you like to do now that you are in Sandpoint?”

Hot Pie raised his hand. Sandor let out an audible groan.

“Yes, Esmeraldina?” said Varys.

Hot Pie gave Varys a winning smile. “I want to go to the Sage’s house.” He flashed his smile around the table. “Does anyone else want to come?”

Sandor, Pod and Gendry all indicated their agreement.

“Paimon will head off and organise our rooms at the Inn,” said Beric, “she wants to have a bath and an early night.”

Varys nodded. “Granok, Marigold, Esmeraldina and Ser Roderick walk through Sandpoint unmolested. You approach the Sage’s house. Ser Roderick and Granok the Beardless, are you displaying your holy symbols openly? What do you all want to do?”

Pod straightened from where he’d been patting Lady, who had migrated under the table. “I am openly wearing the shining sword of Iomedae on my armour,” he said, puffing up with evident pride.

Gendry smirked. “I am wielding a tankard in each hand, slowly taking sips of mushroom ale in veneration of Cayden Cailean.”

Hot Pie rubbed his hands together with glee. “I want to seduce him.”

Sandor shook his head. “Fucks sake.”

“But while I’m bedding him, you lot can search his house for information,” said Hot Pie, slamming his hand down on the table for emphasis. The busty elven figurine in front of him fell over, landing on her breasts which kept the rest of her well off the table.

Gendry leaned forward. “We could just talk to him and ask for information?”

Hot Pie waved his arms around in the air. “But pillow talk! It is the bards trade!”

“I will not sit here and listen to you describe how you fucked an elderly scholar,” said Sandor, scowling.

Varys cleared his throat. “I feel we can cut down the graphic descriptions of a carnal nature,” he intoned, “and just stick to a polite fade to black on the scene.”

Sandor nodded. “Good. Hearing about made up characters fucking is weird as shit.”

“And I’m not casting Remove Disease on you if you catch anything from him,” Gendry said abruptly.

There was a sudden silence around the table. Beric meditatively adjusted his eyepatch.

“Well I’m not,” Gendry muttered, “it’s a third level spell. I don’t have that many spell slots.”

Varys launched into a monologue about something called ‘Thassilon’ which contained a lot of jargon Sansa was unfamiliar with, so she turned her attention back to her book. This had the added bonus of ensuring she wasn’t listening to any seduction attempts by Hot Pie’s character.

The book was an interesting enough study of Free Folk culture that she could lose herself in it without getting too distracted whenever Sandor spoke. After an hour or so, Varys evidently called for a break in play, because all the men stood up and stretched.

“Cake time,” announced Hot Pie gleefully. He bought the cake to the table and placed it on top of the map, sweeping some stray figurines aside. He cut generous slices with a large carving knife and put them onto plates. “Chocolate,” he said wistfully, “better than sex.”

Beric snorted. “Clearly you’ve only had crap sex then.”

Until very recently Sansa would have agreed with Hot Pie’s sentiment about chocolate. She snuck a look at Sandor who, it turned out, was sneaking a look at her. The unblemished side of his face turned pink and Sansa couldn’t restrain a grin at the fact a mention of sex had him thinking about her.

His face remained flushed while he ate his cake, and Sansa wondered if she was still on his mind. She noticed him sneak another glance at her, so she dabbed a little of the chocolate coating from her slice of cake onto her finger then slowly licked it off while she was watching him. He narrowed his eyes, then retrieved his phone from the bag under his chair and typed something into it.

Sansa’s phone beeped, and she checked the messages.

 

**Sandor [8.45pm] – You naughty little tease. Are you free tomorrow night?**

 

Sansa looked back at the table, but the men were all busy clearing the plates and resuming their game.

 

**Sansa [8.46pm] – Yes. Would you like to come over for dinner?**

 

Sandor looked over and arched his eyebrow at her, then typed a reply.

“No phones during play please Sandor,” said Varys.

“Fuck off Varys,” said Sandor mildly, but he put his phone away after finishing the message.

 

**Sandor [8.47pm] – Yes and I will give you dessert….**

 

Sansa wiggled in her seat as arousal hit her again.

 

**Sansa [8.47pm] – Sounds fun! xoxo**

 

She tried to focus back on her book, but after a few minutes she realised she’d read the same page several times. The knowledge that she’d be having mind blowing sex in twenty-four hours was profoundly distracting. Sansa glanced over at the table.

“First up in the initiative order is Marigold,” said Varys.

“I would like to rage,” announced Sandor. He moved a little ginger haired figurine to stand in front of what appeared to be a giant. “Then I will move to engage the nearest stone giant and fuck him up with my axe.”

“Alright, roll to attack,” said Varys.

“Get him, Marigold!” Hot Pie was bouncing with excitement in his seat.

Sandor rolled some dice into the tray in front of him. “Fifteen plus twelve is twenty-seven to hit,” he said, frowning into the tray, “eighteen plus seven is twenty-five to hit.”

Varys nodded. “Both hit, roll for damage.”

“Use your lucky d-twelve, Sandor,” said Pod earnestly. “Let’s call upon the blessings of Iomedae and save the good people of Sandpoint.”

“Fucking paladins,” muttered Sandor, rolling more dice. “Two plus fifteen plus eleven plus six is thirty-four points of damage in total.”

“YES,” said Hot Pie, punching the air.

“The stone giant grunts in pain,” announced Varys, “but he is still standing. Esmereldina, it is your turn.”

“Shame you can’t seduce giants,” said Beric, grinning at Hot Pie.

Hot Pie winced. “I thought we agreed never to discuss that unfortunate encounter,” he replied as he moved his improbably endowed figurine to stand behind Sandor’s one. “Regardless, I gently touch Marigold on her shoulder and cast Heroism.”

Varys hummed an agreement. “And how will you be performing the spell?”

“I would like to perform an interpretive dance.”

Sandor glowered at Hot Pie. “If this is another fucking strip tease, you are going to have a close encounter with my battle axe.”

Hot Pie paled. “Um. Esmereldina will dance a jaunty jig behind Marigold’s back to summon the arcane energies for the spell.”

Sansa calmed down enough to keep reading, only looking up when there was a cheer from all the men when Varys said “How do you want to do this?” and Gendry shouted “FUCK YOU, STONE GIANT.”

Thirty minutes or so later the men were in the middle of another tense battle when the front door was flung open and Arya came in looking ruffled and muddy. She smelled strongly of wet dog. She said “Oof,” and staggered back a few steps when Lady enthusiastically showed that she loved Arya’s aroma. Podrick came to the rescue, holding Lady awkwardly on his lap while Arya made her escape.

Sansa made a cup of tea and sliced some cake for her sister while she showered, and they sat back together on the couch.

“So, how’s the nerd-fest been?” Arya whispered, a little indistinct from her mouthful of cake, “have you refrained from getting hot and heavy with the barbarian?”

“Arya! I’ve hardly spoken to him,” Sansa whispered in return. “We texted a couple of times, that’s all.”

“Eww you sexted him while you were sitting on my couch.”

Sansa leaned down to pat Lady, who had abandoned the men in order to sit on the floor in front of the couch. “No! We just organised to see each other tomorrow.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re going to ‘see each other’ plenty tomorrow,” Arya made air quotes as she spoke. “Do you want me to have Kat?”

“Only if you want to, I don’t want to take advantage.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “She’s my niece, I love hanging out with her. Anyway, she talks more than Gendry does, she’d far better company.”

“Alright gentlemen,” said Varys, clapping his hands. “That’s where we’ll end the session. Next week we’ll be at Beric’s house. Without all the extra candles and votive offerings this time please Beric.”

“Five gold dragons says that Sandor is the last to leave so he can snog you,” said Arya into Sansa’s ear.

“Arya!” Sansa hissed. “I’m not betting on my… um, my, my friend.” She finished abruptly, realising she didn’t have an appropriate metric for her relationship with Sandor.

“Boyfriend?” said Arya quietly in a sing song voice.

Sansa bared her teeth at her sister and stood up, pretending to brush crumbs off her jumper as she walked over to the kitchen.

She fossicked around in the kitchen, trying to look busy, giving the men polite farewells as they went. Sandor was indeed the last one left, shuffling his papers in a way Sansa suspected that he was playing for time as much as she was.

Eventually, Arya grabbed Gendry’s hand and pulled him towards the hallway. “Have fun you two,” she said over her shoulder, but then paused. “No fucking in my house.” She pointed at Sandor and scowled.

“Fuck off, Wolf Girl,” said Sandor, almost sounding fond.

Sansa dried her hands on a clean tea towel when they were alone. She felt inexplicably anxious. It seemed like every time they parted there was no guarantee they’d continue their arrangement. What if one day Sandor suddenly decided he didn’t want to deal with a single mother? What if he wanted someone without the lingering signs of childbearing on their body?

He stepped up close to her and put his hands on her hips. “Little Bird,” he murmured, “you’ve rubbed your cunt all over my face and you are shy around me?”

Sansa licked her lips nervously and looked up at him. “I have no idea how to respond to that,” she said honestly.

He tipped his head back and laughed. “I am a rude fucker,” he said when he’d stopped laughing, giving her a proper smile. “You are far too polite for the likes of me.”

Sansa stood on tiptoes and kissed him then. He hummed and kissed her back, moving his hands around to cup her bottom through her leggings and hold her against his body.

“I wish it was tomorrow already,” Sansa said when they both paused for breath.

“If this was your place or my place, I’d fuck you right here right now,” Sandor said, the rough side of his lips tickling her skin. “But your sister would doubtless stab me if I tried that.”

Sansa giggled. “Yes she probably would. I should go to bed anyway, the more we kiss the harder it’ll be to stop.”

She still kissed Sandor after he gathered up his bag and various papers, and kissed him again before he went through the front door. She leaned against the cold wood of the door and listened to his motorbike drive away with the shivering anticipation that next time she heard it he’d be coming to stay another night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters are playing Pathfinder, not D&D, but they are VERY similar (Pathfinder is based off edition 3.5 of D&D, whereas the D&D ruleset you’ll see on things like Crit Role is 5th edition).
> 
> My husband runs a fortnightly Pathfinder game, so I drew heavily on my experience with that in writing this chapter (though unlike Varys’s game, we don’t have any x-rated content!). My character for our current campaign is a halfling cleric of Erastil named Bluebell Lightfoot.
> 
> (I’m lined up to play a bard for our next campaign and I am sorely tempted to name her ‘Esmereldina Flaps’!)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for being a very helpful beta for this chapter.

“What in all the seven hells is that thing?” said Sandor, sounding alarmed.

“Oh, it’s from my brother Bran,” replied Sansa, “he’s working as a sculptor north of the Wall.” Trying to look casual, she gave the hem of her loose jumper a slight tug. She was naked underneath, hoping to surprise Sandor later in the evening. She hadn’t counted on the weirdly vulnerable feeling she had without a bra though, like she was lacking a key piece of social armour. Missing clothing structure aside, her nipples rubbed on the fabric, and it was very distracting when combined by the overwhelming sense of masculine sexual energy that Sandor had just bought into her house.

Apparently unaware of Sansa’s nipple problems, Sandor dubiously poked the intricately twisted weirwood sculpture that had pride of place in the middle of Sansa’s dining table. The piece had arrived yesterday, left on her doorstep by the courier as her house sat empty to clear from the gas leak.

“What’s it supposed to be?” Sandor tipped his head sideways, squinting at the sculpture.

“Bran included a note.” Sansa mentally set aside attention from her breasts and unwedged the piece of paper from under one of the wooden protuberances. “It’s apparently an allegorical depiction of how modern Westerosi society has become bloated with mindless conveniences, and our dreams are fading because of our disconnection to the land and our culture.”

“Your brother sent you something like that for your house?”

Sansa moved the piece so the bulk of the lumpen knobs of wood faced them. “Kat thought it looked like a dragon.” Sansa regarded the sculpture contemplatively. “Isn’t art supposed to be in the eye of the beholder?”

“Who’s that tentacle porn guy?” Sandor paused, then snapped his fingers as he remembered. “Theon Greyjoy. It looks like a representation of one of his movies.”

Sansa laughed and gave one of the timber appendages a fond pat. “I can’t say I’ve ever watched any of his movies, though this does have a certain octopusesque quality.”

“It could be modern society getting bent over and fucked by a Kraken? Your brother should exhibit in the Iron Islands. They’d go wild for that shit.”

“I’ll suggest it to Kat’s Uncle Tyrion. He’s the only one Bran listens to. Anyway, I think I like it. It’s a conversation piece.”

Sandor lifted the sculpture, squinting at the bottom. He put it back so it was teetering on some fat tendrils. “If you want to have a conversation about cephalopod fucking, sure.”

“Sandor, that’s terrible,” Sansa said, then laughed again. “I should ask him to make a piece for your clinic. Tentacles are relevant to being a vet, surely?”

Sandor snorted. “That’s a bit too exotic for us. We draw the line at parrots, and that’s only because Tormund likes the obnoxious fuckers.”

Sansa felt a rush of affection for Sandor. She seized her boldness. “We should go to the art gallery  in Winter Town sometime. We could make up interpretations for the art, and I hear they have a fun children’s section that Kat would enjoy.”

Sandor blinked, looking startled. He fiddled with the end of a bulge on the sculpture and seemed to be considering his words.

But he didn’t say anything.

And she immediately regretted her suggestion.

“My anxiety is a lot better than it was,” Sansa blurted. In contrast to her words, anxiety bubbled in her chest at Sandor’s silence. Maybe that was why he didn’t say anything? He might not want to associate himself with someone who would make a public scene like panicking and fleeing from a vet’s office. But, of course, their relationship wasn’t supposed to involve anything that might be considered a real date.  “I can go new places without, you know, running away like a crazy person.”

She paused a moment to give him an opportunity to give her a yes or a no.

He didn’t.

She waited. It might have been a second, but it felt interminable.

Sandor kept his eyes on the sculpture. The silence was profound.

So she kept talking to cover her embarrassment at what was clearly about to be his impending rejection of her suggestion. She cursed herself for making things too personal again. Sudden and unexpected art gallery invites were not what he was here for and there no way would he want to be seen in public with someone like her. “Forget I said anything. It’s a stupid idea. Anyway, I should serve up dinner.”

There was a small frown between Sandor’s eyes, but his expression was unreadable.

She fled into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder to cover the silence. “I hope you like chicken and corn chowder. It’s been slow cooking all day with a ham hock and cumin seeds, my secret ingredients, so it should be tasty. I’ve got plenty of bakery bread with some nice local salted butter here to fill you up, too. Did you want to watch a documentary? There is one on the history of Storm’s End that looks good, or we might be able to find another Aemon Targaryen one. I think he did a series on the wildlife of Essos that should be interesting.”

“Do you want any help in there?” said Sandor finally, sounding gruffer than usual. He was still standing beside the dining table.

“No, it’s all under control.” Sansa stirred the chowder with more force than strictly necessary. “Do you want to find something to watch? I’ll grate the cheese and chop the spring onions for the top of the chowder then bring the bowls and the bread.”

The lack of talking as they ate was a little awkward, thought Sandor’s appetite seemed undeterred. Sansa had bought plenty of fresh sourdough bread to eat with the chowder, and Sandor consumed his meal with gusto.

At least the documentary they watched provided an interesting distraction. Sansa made a mental note to ask Stannis if he was related to the Baratheons of Storm’s End, though given that Davos had mentioned he was having issues with a brother, maybe he wouldn’t welcome the reminder of family.

Sandor surprised her firstly by starting the conversation and secondly by making it personal. “You mentioned Kitten’s uncle?” he said when they’d finished and he’d cleared the dishes. “Do you have much contact with your fuckwit ex’s family?

Talking in personal terms about their lives, Sansa supposed, was different to him going out in public with an anxious single mother. She turned to face Sandor, leaning on the back of the couch. “At the moment, only Joffrey’s uncles, who are Kat’s great-uncles. Jaime and Tyrion. Joff also has a brother and sister who are both lovely, but they still live with their mother, a horrible woman I want nothing to do with, so it’s harder for them to be in contact. Tyrion passes on messages from them to us when he can. Even if Kat’s father wanted nothing to do with her, I think it’s good for her to have contact with the decent members of that family.”

Sandor scowled. “What a worthless cunt, not wanting to see his own kid.”

“It’s better this way, though,” said Sansa, making a dismissive gesture, “he doesn’t have to support her financially and I don’t have to worry about how he’ll treat her. It would be terrible for her to grow up and think his behaviour towards women was normal or acceptable.”

“Yeah, well, a real man doesn’t treat his family like shit.”

“No, that’s true,” Sansa said softly. She thought of the softly tender way he spoke to Kat about his scars, her daughter’s tiny hands touching his face. “I couldn’t imagine you doing that.”

She had a brief flash of imagination, picturing Sandor here with Kat and Lady, curled up watching Dany and the Sparkle Dragons with them and rolling his eyes at hearing the songs for the tenth time in a row. It was a profoundly appealing thought, so Sansa ruthlessly suppressed it.

This was simply supposed to be a physical thing.

That was the only reason he agreed to her proposition.

No thoughts of calm domesticity were allowed.

She launched herself at Sandor, moving to straddle his lap and kiss him. He grunted in surprise at ending up with a lapful of woman, but he kissed her back after a moment.

She kissed Sandor harder, thrusting her tongue into his mouth with no finesse at all. Luckily, he seemed to like that, responding in kind as he lifted her top and slid his hands underneath. He moaned as he encountered her bare body under her jumper.

“You kept that one a secret,” he murmured, palming both breasts at once whilst Sansa squirmed on his lap.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said breathlessly.

Sansa stood up and swiftly pulled down her leggings and underwear. Sandor’s eyes went wide, and she leaned forward to undo his jeans and tug them down far enough to free his already hard manhood.

“You in a hurry?” he said, raising his eyebrow at her.

Sansa didn’t reply as she straddled him again, peeling off her jumper as she did so. Sandor’s attention was drawn straight to her breasts, and it gratified Sansa how much he seemed to enjoy them.

She took him in hand and swiftly impaled herself on him, catching her breath at the discomfort. Given his size, it had previously proved easiest to take him inside of her if she’d already orgasmed, but today she wanted him with no preamble.

She needed the reminder of why they were both here.

It was just sex.

Nothing more.

No trips to the art gallery with her daughter on his shoulders, no breakfasts around the table together.

Sandor clamped his hands on her hips, stilling her movement. “Slow the fuck down, Little Bird,” he said, frowning slightly. “You said you weren’t into pain. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” she said, only lying a little. “Let me move and I’ll get wetter.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but loosened his grip on her and sat back against the rear of the couch. He ran his hands back up her body to her breasts, gently pinching her nipples exactly the way she liked.

She moved her hips, trying to find a pleasurable rhythm.

It did get easier, especially since Sandor kept fondling her breasts, though he still regarded her with the same slight frown. He seemed on the cusp of saying something, but didn’t.

From a relatively rocky start, Sansa felt her peak approaching with remarkable speed. She tugged on Sandor’s wrists. “Touch me, please.”

Whatever had been bothering him earlier, his expression now relaxed into smugness. “You enjoying fucking my cock that much?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I’m close.”

He hummed and laced his fingers in between hers, lifting their entwined hands so they were either side of his shoulders. He stretched his arms out, forcing her to lean closer to him.

Sandor kissed her then, long and slow as she moved over him. “No touching yet,” he murmured when they broke the kiss.

To her embarrassment, she whined involuntarily at the thought she wouldn’t get any more stimulation.

“You were so desperate to fuck,” he murmured. “Then let’s fuck.”

She shut her eyes and started to move faster, the previous hurt from Sandor’s non-answer over her art gallery invitation fuelling her with a hitherto unknown combination of anger and arousal. It was a heady mixture, and she felt raw and uninhibited.

Sandor began moaning as she moved more vigorously over him, which excited Sansa since he usually kept fairly quiet during sex. She found the sensation exhilarating, knowing that she would reach her climax soon, but that it was being drawn out. The inevitability aroused her more and more, and she squeezed Sandor’s hands, grunting with the effort of her movements. 

He abruptly let go of her hands and moved to rub her clit with his fingertips. Sansa gasped at the sudden spike of pleasure, then cried out and finally tipped her head back and shrieked as her climax hit her hard and fast. She became aware he was moaning even more loudly and clutching her hip with his free hand, and she ground herself against him as the heat of his own climax filled her.

Sansa slumped against him, burying her face in his sweaty neck. She revelled in his male scent as she tried to catch her breath, her body shaking with the intensity of its peak.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he rasped after several minutes of them drooped together on the couch. “I’ve never seen anyone come so hard.”

Sansa was both gratified and embarrassed by the observation, so she mumbled something that she hoped Sandor would take as an answer and didn’t shift from her position. Luckily Sandor seemed unbothered about the bodily fluids dripping all over the jeans he was still mostly wearing and didn’t request that she move.

He wrapped his arms around her and she hummed in appreciation for the extra warmth. It was peaceful after her emotional turmoil before dinner, listening to his breathing. Perhaps he was just caught off guard at her art gallery suggestion, and might be more amenable to attending something like the Winterfell charity evening instead. He could go to that as the local vet, not necessarily as someone associated with her.

“My brother was the one who fucked up my face,” Sandor said unexpectedly.

Sansa summoned some energy and raised her head so she could see Sandor’s face. “I remember you mentioned once you had a brother in prison?”

“Yeah, Gregor. He’s older than me by a few years.” Sandor sighed. “I was six, and I dared to play with one of his toys. The big fucker caught me and smashed my head into the fireplace we had in the lounge room. Held me there to burn. I almost fucking died, spent fucking months in hospital trying to fix up my clusterfuck of a face.”

Sansa sat back properly, resolutely ignoring her nudity in the wake of Sandor’s confession. She cupped the scarred side of his face. “That’s so awful.”

“You know the worst thing about the whole fucking episode? More than Gregor ruining my face, or the pain or the smell of my flesh cooking?” He looked into her eyes, his vulnerability taking her breath away. “Our father pretended it was all an accident.”

Sansa gasped in horror. “So Gregor never got into trouble over what he did?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “Not for what he did to me.”

Sansa ran her thumb over his cheekbone, the damaged flesh rough under her hand. “Where was your mother?”

“She and my sister died the year before that.” He shook his head again. “My dad stopped giving a fuck after all the good in our family died with them. I wondered if Gregor had anything to do with their deaths, too, but I’ve never been able to find out details about them.”

Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought of the hurt little boy he’d been. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Sandor shrugged. “It’s old news. I got the fuck away, Dad’s dead now, too, and Gregor is locked up for life.”

“What is he in jail for?” Sansa whispered.

“Killed his third wife,” Sandor said baldly. “This first two died as well, but nothing could ever be proved. Fucker slipped up on the third one and the police finally got him.”

“That’s horrible. I mean, good that he got caught, but horrible that he did those things.”

“Yeah. Well.” Sandor’s hands had moved to her waist when she sat back, and now he moved them to skim up and down her arms thoughtfully. He looked into her eyes. They were close enough that she could see the colour of them, the same grey as the sky on a snowy winter’s day. The colour reminded her of home. “Life is full of evil cunts trying to fuck things up for those weaker than them.”

Sansa studied his face. “Is that why you work with animals? To help them after people hurt them?”

Sandor barked a harsh laugh. “I like animals because they don’t lie, they don’t hate, and they don’t stare at my ugly fucking face.”

“You aren’t ugly,” Sansa said quietly, pressing herself against him again, sighing as his arms tightened around her.

Sandor leaned his head on the back of the couch, staring off in contemplation somewhere above the television. Sansa realised the documentary was still playing, the narrator discussing the various tapestries that hung in the keep.

Sandor’s revelations were profound. A jarring contrast to his distance over the art gallery suggestion. Her life had been touched by tragedy, but at least her family would never hurt her. She had the utmost confidence that she and Kat would always have the support of their surviving pack members. She couldn’t imagine such a profound betrayal as Sandor experienced at the hands of his older brother. No wonder he had such anger in him, lacking love and support for so many years.

She buried her face against his neck, unsure what she might say to ease his pain. Nestled in his arms, it was a moment of comfort and it made her heart hurt.

“You sleepy?” Sandor asked eventually.

“A little,” Sansa murmured, drifting in warmth of his embrace.

“You want to shower before we go to bed?”

Sansa roused herself with difficulty. “Probably should.” She looked down at the sticky mess between their bodies. “Perhaps we both should.”

Sandor grinned. “Does your shower fit two?”

“If those people were close together, then yes.”

Sansa gasped as Sandor wrapped his arms underneath her and stood up with her in his grasp. “Sounds like a challenge,” he said, carrying her into the bathroom.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smol chapter to keep you all going through my Very Busy August! <3
> 
> Many thanks to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for beta reading this for me!

Stark family group chat server:

**AryaWolfGirl – hey boys,guess who has a boyfriend?**

[Brandon_Stark has come online]

**Brandon_Stark – you do, Arya. His name is Gendry.**

**AryaWolfGirl – …**

**AryaWolfGirl – Ok. GUESS WHO ELSE HAS A BOYRFIEND?**

**Brandon_Stark – I assume since you are asking in our family chat, you mean Sansa?**

**AryaWolfGirl – U R no fucking fun Brandon. Yes, Sansa is dating a vet.**

[RickonBoi69 has come online]

**RickonBoi69 – yo dawgs**

**RickonBoi69 – good on her. She deserves to get some. Joffery was a cunt.**

**AryaWolfGirl – To be fair, anyone is better than that weaselfaced git. Sandor is okay though. He knows if he hurts her I’ll set my wolves on him.**

**RickonBoi69 – You guve me his deets if that happens. I’ll do an expose of him on my channels.**

**AryaWolfGirl – good idea. Though I think all he does is hang out with animals and be grumpy. Nothing interesting for your video unless it’s a puff piece about how he saves abused dogs and shit.**

**Brandon_Stark – I can make a sculpture to critique any negative behaviour on his part. Nothing cuts deeper than a well placed art attack.**

**RickonBoi69 – LOL Fart Attack.**

**AryaWolfGirl – My fucking apple corer cuts deeper than that, Bran, but we apprreciate the sentiment. And good one, Rickon.**

[Sansypants has come online]

**Sansypants – Hey guys.**

**Sansypants – Ugh Arya, stop changing my chat name!**

**Sansypants – OMG you are all talking about me! Sandor is not my boyfriend.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Fuckbuddy, boyrfriend. Same diffrence.**

**RickonBoi69 – Ohhh Sansa, I didn’t know you had it in you! Joffree would never have done that.**

**AryaWolfGirl – OH YES SHE HAS IT IN HER!!!**

**RickonBoi69 –  *highfive***

**Sansa – Stop being vulgar!**

**Brandon_Stark – they’re always vulgar, Sansa. By the way, I’m glad you liked the new sculpture.**

**AryaWolfGirl – ROFL Bran u gave her kinky tentacle porn for her table. She does have a kid. Poor KAt will grow up traumatised.**

**Sansa – Shut up Arya. I’m glad you got my thank you note Bran. I do love it, it’s a conversation piece.**

**RickonBoi69 –** [tentacles.gif]

**Sansa – RICKONG STARK. dELETE THAT PICTURE.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Heh, Rickong.**

**Brandon_Stark – Lower the tone more, Rickon.**

**RickonBoi69 – That gif makes me want to interview Theon Greyjoy tbh. Reminds me, I alsmost finished my video about Joffroy, Sansa.**

**Sansa – wait, what? Why are you making a video about Joff?**

**RickongBoi69 – He hurt you and he was a dick to my only neice. We are a pack, the lone wolf dies and the pack survives.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Yussss.**

**Sansa – That’s really sweet Rick. What on earth could you say about him though? And how did you get any information?**

**RickongBoi69 – Arya sent me a dossier. Anyway Sans, Joffreh has political ambitions now.**

**Sansa – Really? He was never interesting before.**

**Sansa – *interested. Though interesting works, lol.**

**AryaWolfGirl – politics. Of fucking course he is. What an utter horsecock.**

**Sansa – Wait. ARYA WHY DID YOU HAVE A DOSSIER ABOUT JOFFREY.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Pack members do not neglect their intelligence gathering skills.**

**Sansa – I’m totally telling Gendry that you’ve been misuising your free time.**

**AryaWolfGirl – He knows. You should see the dossier I have on him! :DDDDD**

**Brandon_Stark – This is why I live north of the Wall.**

**RickongBoi69 – That reminds me ladiez, whose turn is it to bug Jon to join the group chat?**

**Brandon_Stark – Mine. I arranged for him to be delivered a tasteful muffin basket with a note detailing the chat server details.**

**AryaWolfGirl –  :O  That’s a pretty fuckin good idea little bro.**

**Sansa – good one Bran.**

**RickongBoi69 – I need to up my game. Next time I’ll send a few of my RickonBoi Tubers to deliver the group chat invite. No red blooded human can resist a lovely lady in a fur bikini.**

**AryaWolfGirl – it’s concernign that you have groupies.**

**Sansa – Yes it is. Remember to use protection, Rickon.**

**Brandon_Stark – Protection from the perils of fame.**

**AryaWolfGirl – pretty sure she meant condoms, but thnx Bran….**

**RickongBoi69 – Yes yes, don’t worry. I’m all over it.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Hey btw Sansa I saw you walking past this morning this mroning. U looked very tired! Hawt times with your bf.**

**Sansa – He is not my boyfriend. Friends with benefits, that is it.**

**Brandon_Stark – I suspect there is more going on here that meets the eye.**

**AryaWolfGirl – thnx, Oh Mysterious Artiste Bran. Sansa is in denial about her bf. Even ur names match, it was FATE I tell you.**

**Sansa – When he was over on Saturday I asked him if he wanted an outing, he didn’t reply.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Pffft u prob just surprised him. Give him time, I bet hes never had a hot woman want to see him in daylight.**

**SanSan – Well. Maybe.**

**SanSan – Arya stop changing my name! I should never have given you Admin privileges.**

**AryaWolfGirl – I HAVE TEH POWER.**

**Sansa – Ugh.**

**RickongBoi69 – I’ll make a video of your wedding. Chicks dig a happy wedding story.**

**Sansa – There is no relationship!**

**Sansa – Anyway.**

**Sansa – Enough about my ‘love’ life. How is Skagos?**


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for beta reading this and fixing up the GIANT PARAGRAPHS of text so that it looks less like an excerpt from a textbook on Westerosi tax law and more like a story about smut and food!

Sansa stepped into the Winterfell Archives and took a deep breath. The room had a climate control system, always kept at a constant temperature and humidity to preserve the stored documents. She loved the smell, a faint chemical mustiness.

It reminded her of family, of home, of her father.

She wondered what Ned Stark would think of her current situation, were he still alive. _If_ he found out, because she couldn’t imagine confiding in him that she was developing romantic feelings for a large, taciturn vet that she was having no strings attached sex with. He’d have probably said he just wanted her to have happiness in her life.

Was she happy?

Sansa frowned and scuffed the edge of her sensible flats on the floor. She was… something. Kat, Lady and the rest of her family made her happy. She was happy to be in Winterfell.

Sandor though. The Sandor Thing had proven to be, well, complex. Fraught. Vexing. She put her phone down then tapped her fingers on the nearest bench, staring sightlessly at the stacks as she lost herself in her thoughts. Would she have confided in her mother about the situation? Quite possibly, she supposed. She and Cat Stark were always close, and tears stung her eyes at the old familiar realisation that today was the longest she’d gone in her whole life without seeing her parents, a count that would only be higher tomorrow.

Sansa shook her head and blinked the tears out of her eyes. It was true that time helped to ease the huge wound that the untimely deaths of her parents and Robb had caused, but sometimes it still hurt so much that she couldn’t breathe.

Sansa took a long shuddering breath to calm herself. She knew they’d be proud over the way she left Joffrey, and she imagined it would disappoint them that she risked her heart by taking control of her sexuality in quite the reckless way that she had. Sansa smiled to imagine her mother’s polite disapproval, and pointed questions asking if she was sure she knew what she was getting in to.

She hummed in contemplation and walked further into the archival room, squaring her shoulders and revelling in the familiar boxes of papers and photographs. Thoughts of her family faded as she focused on her surroundings, centring herself again.

She’d been lucky to grow up somewhere steeped in history, which she thought was responsible for her love of it. Would Sandor have any interest in a tour of Winterfell? She made a face at the nearest archive box, which, according to the label, contained the tax records of her distant ancestor Rickard Stark the Unready. The archive room had to be the least sexy place in all of her old ancestral home, and yet here she stood, thinking about Sandor again.

It had been almost a week since the Saturday when she received loud and clear the reminder that her relationship with Sandor was physical only. He’d stayed over one night since then, bringing her to climax twice while bent over the bathroom sink with her fist in her mouth to stifle any sound.

Sandor had tugged lightly on her hair so she would raise her head and watch him in the mirror, as he thrusted into her from behind. He’d pulled his own dark hair back at the nape of his neck, instead of flopping over his face like it usually did when he wasn’t working. His face had been flushed with the effort, his movements inside her long and slow. He’d looked into her eyes in the mirror as he took her. The intimacy had shocked her, and she’d experienced her first orgasm of the evening with barely any preamble, only just stifling her cries of pleasure so as to not risk waking up Kat.

Her second orgasm in that position occurred after his own conclusion, when he dropped to his knees and used his mouth on her. Sandor pushed her hips up, so she stood on the very tips of her toes, and swirled his tongue all over her centre. She’d felt filthy and sexy when he was down there, he’d never licked her like that after his own climax. He didn’t seem to mind, which probably shouldn’t have surprised her, all things considered. The scandalous feelings proved unexpectedly arousing, and between that and the wet sounds when he’d slipped three fingers inside her had caused her to come so hard she couldn’t remember anything between cresting that wave and Sandor pulling her up into a long, open-mouthed kiss that tasted strongly of them both.

Had she really, so recently, thought sex wasn’t a big deal? Sansa shivered with remembered pleasure. Sex was turning out to be a very big deal indeed.

She walked back to the edge of the stacks and eyed her phone, sitting on the desk where she’d tossed it. Had her unsuccessful attempt to have a public meeting with Sandor ruined any chances that he’d respond to any risqué messages? She was hopelessly turned on by her recollections of their most recent night, and it was possibly leading her to make bad choices, but she wanted to send him a message. Or, even better, a photo.

Her phone dinged with a message, and she squeaked and jumped. Had Sandor somehow sensed her thoughts? Shaking her head at her own jumpiness she read the message and then sighed. It was from someone called Brienne, a friend of Arya’s and a member of the local police force. Arya had told Brienne about Sansa’s unshakable sensations of being watched, her fears that she was being stalked, and they were going to have an informal meeting to discuss it.

Sansa replied, setting up a time for tomorrow, and then looked around the room. The brief interlude hadn’t deterred her plans to send Sandor a picture. The lighting wasn’t ideal, bright fluorescent lights over the mobile stacks which cast harsh shadows onto the floor. No windows either, but at the rear of the room there was a workbench for preserving manuscripts that had bright lights above it. That might work if she stood a small distance away with the stacks in the background.

She cast a dubious eye at the door, wondering briefly what kind of reaction she’d get if Stannis came barging in whilst she was taking inappropriate photos at work. The way he’d been recently, he’d doubtless spontaneously combust. Luckily the preservation bench sat out of sight of the doorway and she hurried over, pulling off her uniform t-shirt as she did so. Sansa tugged her long auburn braid over her shoulder so it draped over her breast and she aimed the phone camera so the photo would show her full face and chest. She stared at the photo for several seconds. She was wearing the red bra she’d worn on her first night with Sandor and she wondered if he’d remember. It was a good photo; her face looked nice, and she had revealed a pleasing amount of cleavage. What should she say to Sandor? She grimaced. Maybe she could just send it without comment. A partly naked chest spoke for itself, surely? She sent the photo to Sandor before she could continue to doubt herself.

Sansa pulled her top back on, not a moment too soon because she heard the door to the archives opening and Sam’s cheery greeting.

She surreptitiously smoothed down her top as she returned the greeting and walked through the stacks towards the front of the room.

Sam stood in the doorway, clutching a box labelled ‘Stormlands Finest: Free-Range Spatchcocked Quail’. “Sansa! I was looking for you, but you’re here already. Excellent.”

Sansa blinked, resolutely ignoring her residual arousal. “Sam,” she said. “Why are you bringing quail into the library?”

Sam looked startled, then his expression cleared. “Oh, no,” he said, “this is a care package from Davos.”

“Of, ah… pre-prepared quail?”

Sam tipped the box so she could see into it. It contained a variety of pastries, sandwiches, and fruit, all neatly packaged and obviously purloined from the offerings for sale to customers of the café. “It’s some lunch for us. Stannis got a phone call from one of his brothers this morning and he’s very mad. He was throwing his antique collection of melon ballers around the kitchen when Davos gave me the box of lunch for us.”

Sansa winced as she sat down and placed her phone on the table. “Oh! I hope he’s okay,” she said, scrunching up her nose in concern. “He loves those melon ballers. Was his handcrafted Dothraki citrus zester still safe?”

“I think Davos hid that one when things started to go south.”

“Good, I’d hate for him to feel bad when he recovers from his tantrum.”

Sam sat down and started to fossick around the contents of the box. “Which sandwich would you like?”

“Is there egg and lettuce?”

Sam selected a sandwich and squinted at the label. “Free-range egg from a local hand raised chicken,” he read aloud, “with the finest of organic baby heirloom lettuce, gently cushioned between slices of heritage sourdough bread.”

Sansa smiled and took the sandwich from Sam. “I can’t imagine Stannis ‘gently cushioning’ anything at the moment, but I’m sure it’ll taste good.”

Sam chose a sandwich for himself and frowned. “I wish he’d call the sandwiches something more straightforward. I just wanted cheese. I don’t need to know that the cow they milked to produce the cheese was named ‘Mootilda’ and that her owners only fed her the most tender of artisan clover leaves.”

Sansa swallowed her mouthful. “Sounds like Mootilda has a happy life. Does the cheese taste any better coming from a contented cow?”

Sam shrugged. “It tastes like cheese to me. That reminds me, Davos was on at me to chase up numbers for the charity dinner. Are you bringing a plus one?”

“I’m not sure,” Sansa said shortly. Dare she risk asking Sandor if he wanted to come along? He was a local businessman after all, and he knew both Stannis and Davos.

“Not even your sister?” Sam frowned at his sandwich and opened it up to reveal a single slice of gherkin. He sighed, gingerly picked it up and placed it on his plate.

Sansa eyed her own sandwich, half expecting to see an errant pickle. “She and Gendry will be away that weekend.”

Sam took a bite of his now plain cheese sandwich and nodded once in satisfaction. “Ah. Well you are more than welcome to sit with me and Gilly.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Sansa retrieved a stray baby lettuce leaf from where it had fallen onto her plate and ate it before she continued speaking. “Is Gilly excited about coming?”

“She is. She trusts Shireen to look after little Sam and the other children.”

“Yes, little Sam and Kat will have plenty of fun, I’m sure. I was going to ask my brother Rickon to record a short message to her as a thank you. She confessed last time I saw her that she’s a big fan of his.”

Sam tilted the box so he could see into it and selected a perfectly cube-shaped raspberry lamington. “Ah, yes. She would be the correct demographic. I confess I’m not sure what these teenagers see in these online videos. Give me a good Aemon Targaryen documentary any day. Have you seen the latest one about the puffins?”

“Yes, I have.” Sansa had a vivid memory of the night she and Sandor watched that particular documentary. She felt the warmth pool between her legs, and she hurriedly changed the subject. “I’m going to supply our Dany and the Sparkle Dragons collection for all the children to watch, so that’ll make things easier for Shireen.”

Sam cringed. “Have you heard the new song? We’ve had ‘Drogon Makes Good Choices’ playing constantly at our place. I’ve started to dream the chorus.”

Pausing as she reached into the box for a plum and a custard tart, Sansa cleared her throat. “Drogon always brushes his teeth, Drogon always washes his feet,” she sang, “Drogon is the Good Choices Draaaagoooon!”

Sam made a face as he shook the remnants of desiccated coconut from his fingers. “And now that’ll be stuck in my head again for the rest of the day.”

She placed the plum beside her phone and regarded the custard tart. The powdered nutmeg on top had been sieved into the shape of what looked suspiciously like a direwolf.

“Do they usually have a creche at the charity dinners?”

Sam nodded vigorously. “It was Davos’s idea initially, probably because he had trouble finding someone who would look after his seven sons. It’s different now they are older, but they kept up the tradition.”

Stannis and Davos were the poster boys of a successful modern blended family, raising eight well-adjusted children between them. Sansa privately felt a little sorry for Stannis’s daughter Shireen, though. She carried the scars on her face from a childhood illness and was obviously self-conscious about them. It was a shame, because it caused all the males in her family to be overly protective of her. She was a bright and engaging teenager, and Sansa hoped her father and step-father would allow her the freedom to make her mark on the world when the time came.

Sansa furtively looked at her phone to see if Sandor had replied to her message. When she moved the phone, she accidently knocked the plum onto the floor. It landed with a thud and promptly rolled under the nearest stack. “Ugh,” she said, “that’ll squash if I don’t fetch it.” She put down her custard tart and knelt beside the stack, grimacing as she felt underneath for the errant fruit.

She lunged after the plum, grasping it with her fingertips and pulling it out with a triumphant smile. Naturally, her phone chose that moment to beep an announcement of a message.

“Sansa,” Sam said. She looked up as the Archivist peered short-sightedly at her phone screen across the table from him. “Looks like someone’s sent you a photo of a baby’s arm holding an apple. That’s an odd thing to send.”

Sansa’s eyes went wide, and she hurried back to her phone, dusty plum in hand. She grabbed her phone with studied casualness and eyed the small preview photo from the message that was most assuredly from Sandor and definitely not a baby’s arm. “Oh, ha ha,” she said weakly. “Just a joke message. No big deal.”

 

**Sandor [12.44pm] – [image] You are hot as fuck, look what you do to me. Meet up tonight?**

 

Sansa felt her cheeks got warm, and she quickly typed a reply.

 

**Sansa [12.47pm] – Yes. xxoo**


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: “Ohh, I’ve got a fairly free couple of weeks, I’ll use that time to write and catch up with my errands! It'll be great!”  
> Also me: *gets sick and doesn’t do anything productive for more than a week*  
> I’m feeling a lot better now though, which is good because it turns out that the idea of writing smut when you have a headache is super off putting!
> 
> GIANT SIZED thanks to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for her beta work and suggestions that made the chapter much better.

It was mid Tuesday evening by the time Sansa arrived home with Kat. Sansa had been watching the clock throughout her meeting with Stannis about the charity dinner, worried that Sandor would arrive at her house before she had the chance to get home, make dinner and settle her daughter for the night.

She had no such luck.

Stannis’s fretting over the menu seemed to take an eternity. Hopefully Davos would prove successful in convincing his husband that eggs ethically harvested at dawn from the puffins who nested on the Wall would be too expensive and that lightly poached quail eggs would be just as good. She was also ready to take a shredder to the map that Stannis had annotated with suitably locavore product suppliers. By the time she could leave work and collect her toddler from Gilly, the whole Tarly clan had shared their dinner with the little girl, and she was distinctly tired. Sansa couldn’t even send Sandor a message to say she was running late because her phone chose that moment to run out of battery.

Sandor was sitting on his motorbike outside of her house when she finally got home, out of breath from pushing Kat’s stroller at a rapid pace.

“Sorry,” she wheezed. “I had to work late, and my phone died.”

The corner of Sandor’s mouth twitched upwards in what Sansa interpreted as a smile. “I’m happy to wait around for a f…” he paused and glanced down at Kat who was staring at him, “…for company.”

“For company, or course,” Sansa said lightly, once she had caught her breath.

Kat saved Sandor from having to respond. “Hi Dodo,” the toddler said solemnly, still eyeing the large man as he climbed off his motorbike.

“Kitten,” he responded with equal gravity, walking over to them both.

Sansa searched for her house keys in her handbag.

Kat looked Sandor up and down. “Gog-gog?” she asked hopefully.

Sansa paused her search and leaned down to ruffle Kat’s curls. “Sandor won’t have any chocolate on him, sweetling. I’ll get you some tomorrow if you’re a good girl.”

Sandor coughed subtly into his fist. “Actually, I do. Ygritte shared her stash for once.” He pulled a squashed looking chocolate bar from the pocket of his jeans.

Sansa pulled the keys out of her bag and sighed.

Kat made a sufficiently high-pitched shriek of joy that it went beyond Sansa’s range of hearing and Lady started barking maniacally from inside the house.

“One square then,” Sansa said, glancing quickly at Sandor who was grinning openly at Kat. Her heart twisted in the fine line between pain and love at how pleased Sandor was over Kat’s happiness. She dragged her gaze away to focus on the lock in the dim light. “Otherwise she won’t settle to sleep, and your evening of _company_ will involve watching endless episodes of Dany and the Sparkle Dragons with us.”

Sansa opened the door and stood back to allow Sandor through.

He had picked Kat up from the stroller and had her perched on his hip, companionably sharing chocolate with her. The child’s fingers and mouth were smeared with chocolate, but Sandor appeared unbothered. Kat patted the side of Sandor’s neck, leaving chocolatey fingerprints behind.

Sansa returned Lady’s enthusiastic greeting, scratching her behind the ears before turning to Sandor. “I’ll give Kat a wash and settle her into bed. I haven’t had dinner, so I’ll grab a snack. After that, I’m all yours.”

“All mine, hmm?” He looked her up and down as best he could with Kat’s arms flung around his neck. He raised his eyebrow. “Want me to make you some dinner?”

Sansa gathered a chocolatey Kat from his arms, returned her sticky kiss then regarded him with surprise. “You can cook?”

He made a derisive noise. “I live by myself, and you might have noticed I eat a lot. Of course I can fu… effing cook.”

“Effing!” said Kat, grinning happily.

Sansa had a brief but vivid vision of Joffrey throwing a dramatic sulking fit when required to make his own cups of coffee, let alone preparing a meal. Sandor wasn’t like Joff in any way, shape or form. “Yes of course you can. Sorry.” She absently wiped the chocolate from her cheek.

Sandor grunted. “Put your Kitten to bed, I’ll have some food ready shortly.”

The kitchen was awash in glorious aromas by the time Sansa had brushed Kat’s teeth, read her a story and sang a lullaby. Sandor stood hunched over the stove, making something that looked to be a vegetable omelette.

Sansa’s stomach rumbled. “That smells amazing.”

“It’s almost ready.” Sandor gave the contents of one pan a poke. “Your kitchen is a fucking strange design though.”

Sansa hummed in agreement. “It’s very old-fashioned. Everything is either too big or too small.”

Sandor gesticulated with the spatula. “Shame the bench is so high, we might have fucked on it otherwise.”

Sansa blinked, torn between surprise and arousal at his words. “What, right now?”

“After you ate.” The side of his mouth quirked upwards again. “Fucking right now would be disrespectful to the omelette.”

“Disrespectful,” Sansa repeated in hushed tones. She didn’t think Sandor would have had that word in his vocabulary. She leaned against the high bench and tried to gather her thoughts. “You said once that you ate anything. I didn’t realise you had so many feelings about food.”

Sandor snorted. “Just because I eat anything doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. Big scary fuckers can enjoy food too.”

“You should spend some time with Stannis. His opinions about food make planning the Winterfell charity dinner somewhat… challenging.” Sansa watched as Sandor chopped up a handful of fresh herbs.

“He brings that Ghiscari hound of theirs, Melisandre, into the clinic.” Sandor checked on the pan, then glanced at Sansa. “She’s flighty. Has anxiety from the shit home she used to live in.”

Sansa huffed a breath. “I sympathise.”

Sandor carefully layered her meal onto a plate as he spoke. “Stannis and I talk food, though I prefer a good big steak to anything more gourmet. I could eat a whole flock of those tiny fucking roasted quails of his, and I’d still be hungry.”

He handed her the plate, and she eyed the contents. He’d beaten the egg whites until they resembled puffs of cloud, then mixed the egg yolks back in so the mixture became soft and golden. Fresh spinach formed the lowest layer of toppings and had wilted perfectly in the heat from the ingredients above it. There were layers of grated Colby cheese and halved cherry tomatoes over the spinach. Sandor had grilled them until the cheese browned and bubbled. He’d found a bag of field mushrooms in the depths of her fridge and sautéed thin slices of them in flavoured butter before placing them over the cheese; the mushrooms sat on top, looking shiny from the butter and covered in flecks of garlic and chilli. He had even chopped fresh chives and sprinkled them over the whole omelette.

“This looks incredible,” Sansa whispered. She couldn’t believe Sandor had done this for her. A lump formed in her throat and tears prickled in the corners of her eyes.

She felt _cherished._

Being a single parent was far better than the alternative if she’d stayed with Joffrey, and she had no regrets at all. It was tiring though, always being the one in charge, not being able to share the mundane tasks of everyday life. Unless she asked Arya and Gendry, but they had their own lives to live and she felt she imposed on them more than enough. That Sandor would bother to help her out like this was overwhelming.

Sandor narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Eat it before it gets cold.”

Sansa swallowed her emotions and sat at the table to eat as Sandor cleaned up the kitchen. She was reminded of childhood memories of her dad washing the dishes and showing her brothers how to do it properly, always making sure all his children always contributed equally to the household tasks.

She blinked away more potential tears from her eyes and focused on her meal. It tasted as good as it looked, perfectly seasoned with the perfect amount of each flavour.

Sandor came to sit with her at the table when he’d finished washing the dishes.

“That was a perfect omelette, thank you.”

He made a gesture of dismissal, fiddling uncomfortably with the placemat. “It was nothing.”

There was a rightness having him in her house. He fit into her space like he was supposed to be there. His kindness only made her want him more.

There was a smear of chocolate still on Sandor’s neck. Sansa tugged on his shirt to bring him closer, then gently cupping his face she leaned in and licked it off. Sandor caught his breath, and made a low noise in the back of his throat.

She abruptly stood, took his hand and pulled him through the house to the bedroom. She kissed him as soon as they walked through the doorway, and they both removed their outer clothes until they both stood in their underwear. They fell to the bed together.

She pushed him onto his back with a firm hand in the middle of his chest. He quirked an eyebrow but acquiesced. She freed him from his underwear, then rested her head on his stomach as she trailed a finger up and down his already hard manhood. She wanted to take him in her mouth, as she’d done briefly on their first night together, but it was not something she was particularly confident doing.

He cleared his throat, and she realised she’d been staring.

“Oh, ah, sorry.”

“You can look at my cock all you want. I like looking at your cunt, so fair’s fair. I was just wondering if you would do anything with it.”

Before she could second guess herself, she took him into her mouth.

She’d hated doing this for Joffrey. He always treated oral sex as his right, even though he never reciprocated. He’d always made her feel cheap when she gave into his whining and used her mouth on him, when he grasped her hair and forced himself further in than she was comfortable taking him, often making her gag and choke.

She braced herself at Sandor’s touch on her hair, but he simply trailed his fingertips carefully over her scalp. She relaxed as he caressed her, running his fingers through her hair, over the shell of her ears, pulling her hair off her face so he could see what she was doing. Feeling bold, she pulled off him with a lewd popping noise and then licked him slowly from root to tip.

His hand twitched in her hair and he whispered, “Fuck. Fucking. Fuck.”

Sansa glanced up at Sandor’s face. He stared at her like she’d just gifted him the moon. Encouraged she took him in her mouth again and he groaned happily.

This was nothing like with Joffrey. She felt in control and sexy as Sandor fell apart at her hands. Well, partly hands. Mostly mouth.

He rasped out a warning when he was close, to give her the chance to pull off, and she rapidly came to a decision. She sucked him harder. There was a moment of near panic when his climax hit the back of her throat and she almost gagged, but she swallowed quickly and concentrated on breathing though her nose, focusing on Sandor’s sounds of pleasure and how she’d given him that experience.

When he had finished, she sat up and wiped her mouth with her hand.

“Fuck, woman,” he groaned. “It feels like you sucked my soul out through my cock.”

Sansa wasn’t sure what the polite response would be to that startling statement, so she contented herself with a neutral hum and snuggled into his side. Running her fingers through the hair on his chest, she waited for him to recover. Eventually he stirred and rolled to face her, pulling her in for a long kiss.

“Come on then,” he murmured when they broke the kiss, “sit on my face.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure I want to have my tongue in your sweet cunt?” Sandor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Sansa had discovered the first time they did this that there was no dignified way to sit on someone’s face. Sandor was eyeing her with undeniable hunger though, so she shoved aside any self-consciousness and sat up again to manoeuvre herself into place.

He hauled her into position with his hands on her hips and she squeaked as he, with unerring aim, thrust his tongue into her without any preamble.

Sansa clutched the top of the headboard with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, a position that had become more familiar than she would ever have thought it would. The more time she spent intimately engaged with Sandor the more she realised she was confident about her own responses to him. He always seemed to enjoy the way she moved and the noises she made. He liked her touching him too, and, as evidenced by the events of a few minutes ago, she enjoyed giving him pleasure.

This wasn’t supposed to be a relationship, but it felt like it should be. They had such an easy give and take. Even when they weren’t in bed, she enjoyed Sandor’s company. She liked talking to him, hearing about his day and sharing what she’d been up to. The more she thought about it, he’d been kind to her ever since their disastrous first meeting. He’d even asked Pod to supply puppies for Kat to play with on the day when she was busy baldly asking him for sex. He was far less grumpy with her and Kat than he was to the rest of the world.

Did that mean anything?

Would he make anyone else a lovely meal like he’d made her?

Did he care about her wellbeing?

Sandor’s tongue abruptly ceased its movements, and he pushed her back a little so she straddled his chest.

“You still with me?” he said, looking up at her face. His chin looked slick with her wetness.

Sansa’s face flamed hot. “Sorry, I was thinking about things. I still enjoyed what you were, ah, doing. A lot.”

“I must be doing something really fucking wrong if you are thinking about anything other than what my mouth is doing to your cunt.” Sandor’s voice was wry.

She wiggled further backwards down Sandor’s torso so she could bend down and kiss him as an apology. She couldn’t very well reveal that her thoughts had been of him, she didn’t wat to scare him off. He made a discontented noise into her mouth but kissed her back, running his hands over her body as he did so.

The connection of the kiss bought her mind back to the here and now. She stretched out beside him, pressed tight against his body.

Sandor hummed in approval and pinched one of her nipples, causing her to moan into the kiss. He kept touching her that way, until she writhed against him. He pulled her leg over his hip then slipped his hand between their bodies, caressing her intimately before slipping two fingers inside her.

Even his touch felt reverent, as if he wanted nothing more in the world right now than to bring her pleasure. That thought was just as appealing of the sensations he was sparking inside of her body. She cradled his face between her hands as they kissed, her fingertips brushing over his scars. She moaned more loudly into his mouth as his thumb brushed her clit, now fully lost in her ecstasy. Usually his tongue was more effective than his fingers in pushing her to the brink, but the intimacy of the position, the deep kisses as he fondled her, was driving her wild. Her climax was intense, and she shook in his arms, stifling her moans against his skin. He stroked her through it then wrapped his arms around her. The moon was full, and it cast a faint silvery light into her bedroom. Sandor pulled back a little to gaze at her face, and she looked back, studying the way the soft illumination blurred his scars and darkened his eyes. Neither of them said a word as they both relaxed into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned it a couple of chapters ago, but feel free to join me on my Tumblr Orangetabbywrites. It’s not actually a writing or themed blog or anything like that, it’s mostly me reblogging stuff I like such as historical posts, cute animals and geekery. There are a couple of pictures of my adorable cats on there though :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovely readers. I've tagged for it, but just a heads up that this chapter contains mentions of a past domestic abuse situation. 
> 
> I've updated the tags a couple of times since starting the story, so it's always good to be familiar with them in case there are issues/situations that could be upsetting. 
> 
> Many thanks to my excellent beta [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo)

Stark family group chat server:

 

**JonWillNeverJoinUs :’( – Hi everyone**

 

[AryaWolfGIrl has come online]

 

**AryaWolfGirl – OMG HI JON. WELCOME TO THE CHAT SERVER.**

**JonWillNeverJoinUs :’( – why is that my user name?**

**AryaWolfGirl – oh lol. Hang on I’ll change it.**

**JonWillNeverJoinUs :’( – where are the others?**

**AryaWolfGirl – There.**

**FavCousinJon – thanks…**

**AryaWolfGirl – dunno what the boys are u to. They might jin if they hear the notifications. Sansa is with me, she’s getting the coffees. Kat’s here too, she’s sitting on my knee trying to grab the fuckin phone. We’re meeting up with my friend who is a policeperson about that creepy shit about Sansa being watched.**

**FavCousinJon – is it Joffrey?**

**AryaWolfGirl – u know he wouldn’t do his own dirty work. Have you read the updated dossier I sent? Im worried though.**

**FavCousinJon – Yes I read it. How did you find out his exact weight and inseam measurement?**

**AryaWolfGirl – I have my sources.**

**FavCousinJon – Okay… Anyway Bran knows Joffrey’s uncle doesn’t he? The lawyer?**

**AryaWolfGirl – Yeah he does. I’ll ask him to tell Tyrion what might b happening. I dunno, it might be nothing but it might be something.**

**FavCousinJon – one of my free folk friends lives down there, I can ask him to keep an eye out.**

**AryaWolfGirl – is he a big ginger vet?**

**FavCousinJon – Do you know Tormund?**

**AryaWolfGirl – yeah. Sansa’s banging his boss.**

**FavCousinJon – I see. Good for her.**

**AryaWolfGirl – she’s still waiting for our coffee but SHE IS STARING AT ME. I DID NOT SEE HER CHECK HER PHONE?! HOW DOES SHE KNOW WE R TALKING ABOUT HER?**

**FavCousinJon – focus, Arya.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Oh shit now she is on her phone**

 

[Sansa has come online]

 

**Sansa – Stop talking about me Arya or I will change your coffee order to a green tea. And take that sugar pcket off Kat, you know she’ll eat it. Also hi Jon**

**AryaWolfGirl – FUCK NO YOU WOULD NOT DARE POISON ME WITH THAT CURSED BREW**

**FavCousinJon – Hey Sansa. How are you?**

**Sansa – I’m good. Busy with work and Kat. She is getting so tall. How about you?**

**AryaWolfGirl – GREEN TEA IS SENT FROM THE SEVEN HELLS TO PLAGUE US**

**FavCousinJon – I’m good too. I’m going to visit Winterfell on my next holidays**

**Sansa – it would be great to see you!**

**FavCousinJon – same!**

**AryaWolfGirl – that reminds me btw, How is Dany? Are you still making the dragon with two backs???? ;))))**

**Sansa – Arya, thats terrible!**

**FavCousinJon – We are on a break. Things got strained after Drogon bit me**

**AryaWolfGirl – Wait I thought Drogon was a dude in a suit. His sick dance moves are the only fuckin good part of that show.**

**Sansa – That’s a lie, I’ve heard you singing along with Kat**

**FavCousinJon – I am contractually obliged to not discuss the nature of the Sparkle Dragons**

**AryaWolfGirl – Wut**

**FavCousinJon – I did get Kat a signed photo though. It’s a bit singed but you can still see everything.**

**Sansa – Thanks Jon, she’ll love it :)**

**FavCousinJon – So. How is Ygritte?**

**AryaWolfGirl – ……U R a fucken slut Jon Snow**

 

**FavCousinJon – I was just asking!**

**AryaWolfGirl – Contact her urself if u are willing to risk the ass kicking she will give u**

**Sansa – wait, you dated Ygritte?**

**FavCousinJon – it was a summer fling. We were young and I knew nothing about life.**

**AryaWolfGirl – Sansypants can’t reply, she’s just picking up our order. There better fucking not be any green tea.**

**FavCousinJon – I heard that green tea is very good for you**

**AryaWolfGirl – THEY CAN SHOVE THEIR ANTIOXIDANTS UP THEIR ASSES. Anyway gotta go, I can see Brienne outside the cafe.**

 

[AryaWolfGirl has gone offline]

 

***

 

Arya’s friend Brienne stood tall enough that she had to duck through the door of the café. She had a shock of short platinum blonde hair and was apparently on her day off, as she wore jeans and a casual sweatshirt with ‘Storm’s End University’ emblazoned across the front. Brienne also turned out to be one of the highest-ranking officers of the Winterfell Police Department, a fact which Sansa was mortified to discover. After their introductions and coffee distribution, Sansa apologised for taking up her valuable time with a matter so potentially trivial.

Brienne dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand. “Stalking situations are something we take very seriously. Everyone deserves to feel safe.”

Sansa dipped her spoon into the powdered cinnamon-coated foam atop her coffee, regretfully disturbing the intricate pattern that the barista had made. “It was just a sense, though. I never actually saw anybody.”

Brienne took a thoughtful sip of her own coffee. “Arya mentioned there’s been some strange events, too. I think there was a gas leak?”

“Well, yes,” Sansa said slowly, letting the foam drip from her spoon into puffy tan-coloured globs on her drink, “though I hadn’t thought that was anything to do with the impression I had of being watched.”

Brienne shrugged. “There may not be any connection between those things, but it’s important to catalogue anything unusual.”

“Those giant gooey caramel and white chocolate muffins are calling my name,” said Arya suddenly, who still had half of her triple shot latte left. “Do either of you want food?

Sansa leaned over and swiped the smear of chocolate flecked milk foam off Kat’s cheek with her thumb. “Maybe a dotty cookie for Kat? She’s almost finished her babyccino, so some food would keep her busy for a while longer.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” said Brienne.

Sansa and Brienne made small talk whilst Arya obtained the food. She came back to the table with two plates, one holding an enormous muffin and the other bearing a large cookie dotted with what Sansa knew were coloured, pebbled-shaped chocolate lollies.

“Gog-gog,” said Kat hopefully, eyeing her aunt.

“Yes, here you go,” said Arya, placing the plate in front of Kat. “Pretty sure it’s full of gog-gog.”

“So,” Brienne said, giving Sansa a piercing look, “is there a history of threatening behaviour with your former partner?”

Sansa glanced at her daughter, who was engrossed in her cookie. She couldn’t see any trace of Joffrey in the happy little girl. She looked back at Brienne and cleared her throat. “He was violent when we were together.”

Arya shook her head. “You mean he beat the shit out of you.”

Sansa frowned at her sister, feeling like Arya exaggerated. “Not very often,” she said defensively. “Mostly it was just verbal.” There was always the profound sense of shame that Sansa had, that she should have left the first time Joffrey behaved abusively to her. He’d been so apologetic afterwards, and every time she regretted upsetting and provoking him. Joff would always say it was because he loved her so much that he’d get so angry at her, that they had a deep connection, and everything was more heightened.

Sansa swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

Arya and Brienne were both looking at her. Arya scowled as she chewed a chunk of muffin, though Sansa suspected that was more for thoughts of Joffrey’s behaviour rather than anything she herself had done. Brienne had a considering expression on her face.

“Sorry,” Sansa said. “I should have left him far before I did.”

“It’s actually very common for people to stay with their abusers for a long time after the abuse begins,” Brienne’s voice was matter-of-fact, but gentle. “And many victims end the relationship, but then resume it at a later date.”

“I still feel like a coward,” Sansa admitted.

“That weasel-faced little prick messed with your head,” said Arya darkly.

“Something I hear all the time is people asking why the abused individuals in these situations don’t leave immediately, why would they stay in a situation where they are being mistreated.” Brienne grimaced and paused to sip the remains of her long black. “What they do not say is why should the victim be the one to lose everything? And even more crucially, why doesn’t the abuser stop harming them?”

Sansa nodded slowly. “I never thought of it that way.”

“When you left your ex-partner, you left Kings Landing, did you not? So you lost your home, the place where you’d settled, your friends and many possessions.” Brienne gestured with her spoon for emphasis, a lock of pale hair falling forward as she did so.

“I did use to have friends down there from when I was at university.” Sansa cringed internally, remembering how she’d lost touch with most of the people in her life during the years she was with Joffrey. “And we only took what we could fit in Arya’s truck.”

“And the fucker was willing to give up his kid,” Arya said quietly.

“So you have nothing to be ashamed of,” said Brienne definitively. “It’s not as simple as just leaving. Nothing is ever so black and white.”

Sansa stared at her coffee cup rather than at the other women. “Yes, that makes sense.”

There was a lengthy pause.

Arya broke the heavy silence when she leaned over to swap a chunk of the white chocolate from her muffin with Kat in return for a portion of cookie. “This cookie is surprisingly good.”

A breeze wafted over the table as the door to the café was flung open with gusto by a large man who strode into the room. Sansa’s head snapped up, thinking the figure might be Sandor, but it was another man she recognised.

“Ahh! A table filled with unsurpassed loveliness.” The man strode over to them, grinning broadly.

“Oh, shove it up your arse, Tormund,” said Arya mildly, licking caramel sauce off her fingers.

“Hi, Tormund. It’s good to see you again,” said Sansa, smiling at him, relieved for the change in conversation.

Brienne’s cheeks flamed a violent shade of red, and she mumbled something into the dregs of her coffee.

Tormund’s smile widened. “And there’s my majestic warrior goddess. How are you this fine day?”

Brienne scowled. “Same as I was when we woke up this morning. And we’ve talked about this, this _praise_.” She said the word praise as if it tasted rancid.

Arya’s jaw dropped. “What, you two are fucking now? When did that happen?”

Tormund bent down to kiss Brienne’s cheek. “What, I can’t compliment the most beautiful woman in the room?” he murmured to her, then stood up and raised an eyebrow at Arya. “I prefer to call it making love. Fucking is for long, cold nights in the snowy north, but making love is for romancing an exquisite beauty here in the south.”

Arya mimed gagging.

Sansa cocked her head to the side. “Winterfell is in the north, Tormund.”

“Not for me,” he said, glancing in what Sansa knew was a northerly direction.

Kat offered a piece of slightly flaccid cookie to Tormund. “Hi Moos,” said the toddler, gracing him with a beatific smile. “Ta?”

“How lovely to see you again, young Catelyn,” he said gravely, taking the cookie chunk and eating it without flinching.

Arya wrinkled her nose. “Would you like a cookie of your own?”

“I’m afraid I can’t linger. Sandor…” Tormund paused slightly and gave Sansa a broad wink, “is about spend the afternoon rescuing kittens, so I’m needed on the clinic premises in case of emergency.”

Sansa felt her face flame red at the confirmation that Tormund knew about her arrangement with his boss. Any more potential embarrassment was kept at bay by the highly compelling mental image of Sandor holding a basket filled with kittens. He might have taken his shirt off, because it was hot, revealing his bulky, hairy and sweat glistened torso. Sandor’s huge hands would be infinitely gentle as he picked up a tiny mewing kitten. He might give one of his rare smiles at the antics of the little animals.

She jumped and pulled her attention back to the present as Arya kicked her ankle under the table. The other women were watching her with evident amusement.

Tormund brightened a bit, oblivious to Sansa’s flights of fancy. “I’ll take some to go, though.”

“Sorry about that,” said Brienne after Tormund had departed in a whirlwind of baked goods and takeaway coffee cups.

Sansa elbowed Arya, who had opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t apologise,” said Sansa before Arya could say anything, “He’s lovely and it’s fine.”

“Nice Moos,” interjected Kat, somewhat thickly. Her cheeks bulged with what Sansa suspected were stockpiled chocolate chunks.

Brienne snorted, then sat up straight and assumed what Sansa judged was her professional facial expression. “Anyway, plan of attack. I’ll do some investigation and send some of my people out to search for any evidence near the places that you reported the incidents have happened. You’ll need to note down any unusual incidents. I’ve got the copy of Arya’s dossier on your former partner, which has some valuable information, so thank you for that.”

Arya saluted her with a hefty chunk of muffin that oozed caramel onto the table.

Sansa frowned at Arya, then turned to Brienne. “Thank you. I’m sorry for all of this.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Brienne said sternly. "Better to be safe than sorry.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pros: Another chapter in less than a week?! Yay!
> 
> Cons: No smut... (smut will be in the next chapter *cough*)
> 
> Thank you to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for her assistance with my comma use!

**Arya [7.41pm] – u r going to break my sisters fragile heart**

**Sandor [7.42pm] – …**

**Sandor [7.42pm] – have you been drinking, Wolf Girl?**

**Arya [7.42pm] – No.**

**Arya [7.43pm] – Okay, yes, but that is not the point. We r supposed to b watching Playing for Keeps and she keeps talking about you instead.**

**Sandor [7.44pm] – You aren’t watching it if you are messaging me.**

**Arya [7.46pm] – fucking semantics. I’m in the kitchen. I said I’d go and bake a cake so we can eat that and watch the show. I can’t fucking bake shit, I just wanted to not hear endlessly abut how fucking great you are.**

**Sandor [7.47pm] – don’t bake when you’ve been drinking, you’ll burn your fucking house down**

**Arya [7.47pm] – YES THAT IS RIGHT BECAUSE YOU CAN COOK. I heard all about that too. I swear I wasn’t this annoying wjen I got together with Gendry**

**Arya [7.50pm] – fuckin Sandor don’t ignore me. I’m covered in cocoa powder and regret.**

**Sandor [7.50pm] – I’m not ‘together’ with your sister. She’s only interested in our casual arrangement.**

**Arya [7.51pm] – fuck off you oblivious prick. She’s really into you. Also how long should I bake the chocolate cake for? I spilled wine on the recipe.**

**Sandor [7.51pm] – what size cake tin?**

**Arya [7.51pm] – how the fuck should I know. I’ll send you a picture.**

**Arya [7.52pm] – [img1538.jpg]**

**Sandor [7.52pm] – How the fuck can I tell the size from that? There is no scale.**

**Arya [7.53pm] – [img1539.jpg]**

**Sandor [7.53pm] – okay it’s bigger than your face so must be 23cm. try 30 mins at 180C, but you have to check to make sure it’s cooked by inserting a skewer and checking to make sure it’s clean.**

**Sandor [7.54pm] – also what the fuck are you wearing in that picture?**

**Arya [7.54pm] – well that sounds too fucking hard.**

**Arya [7.54pm] – AND I AM WEARING MY FUZZY WOLF ONSIE SANDOR. DO NOT FUCKING JUDGE ME. And look, it has a hood with wolf ears.**

**Arya [7.55pm] – [img1540.jpg]**

**Sandor [7.55pm] – what the fuck did I just see. You look like you’re wearing a fluffy condom.**

**Arya [7.55pm] – FUCK OFF BECAUSE ONSIES ARE VALID LEISURE WEAR.**

**Sandor [7.56pm] – stop getting distracted and keep making your cake.**

**Sandor [7.56pm] – and if my cooking instructions are too complex get Sansa to help you.**

**Arya [7.56pm] – no, she’s talking to Gendry about you and I am not going back in there without cake.**

**Sandor [7.57pm] – you have to cook it to be able to eat it. I don’t know why I am interrupting my workout to reason with you.**

**Arya [7.58pm] – SANDOR AND HIS ENORMOUS MUSCLES. “Ohh Sandor can pick me up even though I’m unreasonably fucking tall and he’s so strong and manly.” Ugh. I have to visit the wolves with you, knowing you rock my big sisters world. I’m so fuckin triggered.**

**Sandor [7.59pm] – I’m going back to my weights.**

**Sandor [8.00pm] – also how are you friends with Brienne if you are jealous of women taller than you? She’s fucking twice your size, far taller than Sansa.**

**Arya [8.01pm] – FUCK OFF YOU BIG SIZEST WANKER. U fuckin try shopping for jeans in the kids section and see how happy that makes you.**

**Arya [8.25pm] – U WILL BREAK HER HEART YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD.**

**Arya [8.25pm] – SANDOR**

**Arya [8.26pm] – SAMDOR CLEGANE**

**Arya [8.27pm] – DOCTORVET SANDOR CLEGANE**

**Sandor [8.27pm] – fucks sake. Have you had more to drink? You should be focusing on your cake.**

**Arya [8.27pm] – im watching it. It smells cakey. U should ask Sansypantsy out on a real date.**

**Sandor [8.28pm] – that’s not what she wants, and I respect her boundaries.**

**Arya [8.28pm] – bullshit. She’s got it bad for you.**

**Sandor [8.28pm] – even if she did, she deserves better than me.**

**Arya [8.29pm] – OOOoooOOHHHHH YOU LIKE HER BACK!!!!!!!!!! I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Sandor [8.29pm] – You know jack shit, Wolf Girl. you accused me of intending to break her heart?**

**Arya [8.30pm] – I TAKE IT BACK. ASK HER OUT ON A REAL DATE YOU GIANT COWARD.**

**Sandor [8.30pm] – she’s fucking perfect. I wouldn’t subject her to that.**

**Arya [8.31pm] – you mean the face issue? b/c she doesn’t care. She thinks u r hot. Believe me, I’ve had to listen to her go on abut it.**

**Sandor [8.32pm] – she doesn’t know what it would be like. She’s beautiful and so fucking hot and smart and brave and deserves more than to be laughed at for spending time with me.**

**Sandor [8.32pm] – Fuck.**

**Sandor [8.32pm] – don’t you dare show her that message. I’m getting fucking soppy in my old age.**

**Arya [8.33pm] – youre an idiot and should tell her how you feel. Ugh. UGH SANDOOOOOR.**

**Arya [8.36pm] – should the cake be cracked on top?**

**Sandor [8.36pm] – no? you must have overcooked it.**

**Arya [8.36pm] – OH no. WHAT DO I do Dr CLEGANE, HELP me?????!**

**Sandor [8.37pm] – how much fucking wine have you had? If you have any chocolate liqueur then pour a couple of shots over the cake. Do you have vanilla ice cream? Serve the hot cake with that. Grate some chocolate on top.**

**Arya [8.38pm] – u r a fucking genius. BEST DOCTOR.**

**Sandor [8.38pm] – I’m a vet, Wolf Girl.**

**Arya [8.38pm] – THNX DR VET**

**Sandor [8.38pm] – you fucking lush. Go and watch the show with Gendry and Sansa. Eat your cake.**

**Arya [8.38pm] – GOOD NIGHT DR VET**

**Sandor [8.39pm] – goodnight Wolf Girl.**

 

***

 

Sansa looked up as Arya came into the room carrying three bowls balanced precariously on a tray. “You missed the part where Anna was learning to take people’s faces. She’s an assassin now.”

Arya carefully edged around the coffee table. “I was working hard over a hot stove baking this delicious cake, a very important mission.”

“I didn’t think you were actually baking,” Gendry said, looking startled and alarmed.

“Hey, I stayed in there for a fucking hour,” said Arya indignantly. “What did you think I was doing?”

Sansa exchanged a glance with Gendry. “Complaining to someone about us and drinking wine?” she offered.

Gendry nodded. “Eating my stash of cooking chocolate?” he said.

Arya scowled. “Well, fuck you both. I was actually baking.” She paused, then shrugged. “And drinking. Now take your fucking desserts and be grateful.”

Sansa grinned and helped herself to a bowl. “This looks lovely, thank you. I like the shaved chocolate on top, very professional.”

Arya passed Gendry his bowl, then sat down with hers. “Shame Kat is asleep. She’ll get shitty that she missed out on some chocolate.”

Sansa sniffed the contents of her bowl, which bore a suspiciously boozy scent. “Is that chocolate liqueur? Because my child is not drinking hard liquor.”

“You did that all yourself?” Gendry seemed profoundly dubious.

“Yes,” said Arya proudly.

Gendry kept looking at her.

“Okay, no. Sandor helped me.”

Sansa paused with her spoonful of dessert halfway to her mouth. “I thought he was going to have a quiet evening reading the new issue of _Westeros Veterinary Quarterly_ and lifting weights. There was an article about keyhole surgery in miniature goats that he said he was looking forward to.” She put the spoon in her mouth and hummed with pleasure at the warm chocolate combined with the cold ice cream.

Arya rolled her eyes. “We just exchanged a few messages. There was plenty of time left for him to maintain his physique for your viewing pleasure.”

“He can do what he wants,” said Sansa primly. “Did I show you the photo of him that Ygritte sent?” She put her bowl down, picked up her phone and located the photo in her messages. As it did the first time she saw it, her heart did a little flip flop. In the picture Sandor sat on the floor of his work, wearing his Winter Town vet clinic polo shirt. Several kittens were using him as a climbing frame, including a tiny ginger kitten perched on his head looking proud. Stranger was a dark smudge lurking in the background, sitting next to a large auburn-coloured dog who Sansa assumed was Marigold.

Arya glanced between Sansa and the photo, her eyes narrowed in consideration. “Okay, that is pretty cute. You should ask him out on a real date.”

“I’ve told you he’s not interested in me in that way,” replied Sansa, poking her spoon into the middle of her cake slice.

Arya leaned forward and fixed Sansa with an intense stare. “Sansa. You should let him know how you feel. Tell him you want to make babies with him and wake up every morning to the smell of freshly cooked scrambled eggs and cup of tea that he’s made you.”

“Arya that last part is you,” said Sansa. “Gendry makes you breakfast every morning. How much wine have you had?”

Gendry looked slightly pale. “Babies? Maybe now is a good time to make us all a coffee,” he muttered, making a rapid exit from the room.

Sansa’s brain caught up with the rest of Arya’s statement. “Wait, is this your way of saying you want babies with Gendry?” She clapped her hands. “Am I finally going to be an Auntie? Will Kat have cousins to play with?”

Arya recoiled, almost losing her grasp on her bowl of dessert. “What the fuck?! I was talking about you. The breakfast thing was meant as a relationship goal. I don’t want any fucking babies! I fucking hate kids. Give me the cubs from my pack any day.”

Sansa tilted her head to the side at Arya’s claim of child hatred and regarded her sister with a frown.

“Apart from Kat,” Arya continued, evidently noticing Sansa’s expression. “She’s great. She likes wolves and chocolate and me, which shows impeccable good sense. Other people’s kids, though? Fuck no. So much fucking noise and snot. You are the one who likes kids, not me.”

Sansa laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Jon wants kids, though, if he can stop chasing unobtainable women.”

Gendry poked his head into the room. “Is it safe?”

“Yes, Sansa understands any new Starks won’t be coming from me. She has to wait for Jon, or if the boys ever decide to pull finger and reproduce. Or naturally, as I was saying, she could have some tiny, surly, hairy Sandor clones.”

Gendry looked relieved. “Oh, thank the gods.”

“Anyway, what about the Winterfell charity evening?” said Arya. “Invite the big fucker to that.”

“I have considered it, but I mentioned perhaps having a trip out once, and he didn’t really respond.” Sansa’s chest felt heavy at the memory of Sandor’s reluctance to be seen in public with an anxious single mother like her.

Arya made a dismissive hand gesture. “Ask him properly.”

Sansa stirred the chocolate shavings into the soft remains of her ice cream. “Do you think so?”

“Yes,” said Arya through a mouthful of cake. “Yes, I do.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks as always to my beta, [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo)
> 
> I apologise in advance for anyone left unable to ever view Scrabble in quite the same way again!

“There,” said Sandor smugly, placing his tiles on the board. “’Titty.’”

“That is not a word,” said Sansa indignantly, leaning forward and scowling at Sandor. “That’s a nickname.”

Sandor held up one finger as he flicked through Sansa’s old, battered copy of the _Westerosi Concise Dictionary_ that sat on the table in front of him. 

She huffed a breath. “You’re just bitter because ‘quim’ is not in the dictionary.”

Sandor smirked at her. “But ‘titty’ is.” He looked down at the page. “It’s a noun, believe it or not, and it’s defined as a teat or breast.”

He flicked his gaze across to her partly unclothed chest and she resisted the urge to cover herself.

Sansa frowned at him then sat back and folded her arms over her breasts. “Fine. I accept that word.”

“And the ‘Y’ is on a triple letter score, so I win this round.” He leered at her. “Take it off, then.”

Sansa looked across the table to where Sandor was sitting, shirtless and with one bare foot, but otherwise clothed. “How is it you’re so good at this?”

“Beric and I play at least once a week,” he replied, sounding smug.

Sansa gave an unladylike snort of amusement. “You play strip Scrabble with your friend Beric?”

Sandor grimaced. “Fuck no! I don’t want to see that ugly fucker naked any more than I already have to. Hard enough to stop him stripping off and performing his fucked-up ceremonies to his Lord of Light in my fucking front yard. No, we play normal Scrabble.” He paused and looked at her expectantly. “Now you’re stalling. Take it off.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, stood up and unceremoniously removed her bra, leaving herself in underpants only. “Fine. Fine!”

He stared at her chest and sighed happily. “You have the best fucking tits.” 

Sansa harrumphed and added the bra to her neat pile of folded clothing on the table, then sat back down, focusing on her available letters. After a few moments, she looked back at him. He was still staring at her, and her nipples tightened in response.

“Only one item of clothing left, Little Bird,” he said. “You’d better be prepared to give me my prize.”

“I can still win it from here,” Sansa replied loftily. “You’re only one item ahead of me and I still maintain that socks are a pair.”

Sandor raised his good eyebrow skeptically, then looked down at his own letters.

Sansa chewed her bottom lip. She had an L, another L, a P, an H, an S and the vowels A and U. She glanced at the board. There were several vowels that she could incorporate and an ‘es’ from where the words ‘bite’ and ’smut' intersected.

“Hah!” she said, banging her fist on the table, making the game board shift slightly. “Beat this.” She carefully placed her tiles before the ‘es’ so the word now read ‘phalluses’.

Sandor nodded slowly. “That’s pretty fucking impressive. Good use of an old Valyrian word.”

“And it’s a double word score and I also get fifty points for using all my letters.” Sansa didn’t want to be impolite, but she was having trouble keeping the pride out of her voice.

Sandor quickly added ‘lick’ positioned down from the second L in ‘phalluses’. He examined her again with hooded eyes. Sansa had a fair idea what he might be thinking about with that word.

“I win that round,” she said. “Take something off.”

“My belt, then.”

Sansa crossed her arms over her naked chest again. “Belt counts as part of your jeans.”

Sandor paused and eyed her now enhanced cleavage before giving himself a little shake and continuing. “A belt is a separate item of clothing. You buy it separately, and can wear different colours.”

“It’s an accessory,” Sansa insisted. “You wouldn’t wear it without your jeans.”

Sandor snorted as he stood up and started to undo his belt buckle. “Fine, I’ll take them both off. But only because you arguing with me is making your tits jiggle, and it’s turning me the fuck on.”

Sansa glanced down involuntarily. Nothing was jiggling any more, but then she’d stopped arguing. Sandor pulled his jeans (and belt) off, and it appeared he was telling the truth about his arousal. He was down to underwear and one sock.

He sat back down. “Go on.”

Sansa frowned at the new tiles she’d picked up. She had a K, the vowels U and E, two S’s, a G and a Y.

Sandor tapped his fingers on the table as he stared at his own tiles, evidently thinking about his next move. She peeked at his hands. His fingers were long and strong, with the backs of his hands dusted with dark hair. She was intimately familiar with the places those long fingers could reach and she wiggled in her seat. Her nipples pebbled with arousal again and she secretly cursed her traitorous body.

She added some letters below the P in ‘phallus’. “There, ‘pussy’,” she said, her cheeks burning hot as she said the rude word. “Which means the Y is on a double letter score.”

Sandor had specified the rule before they started playing that she had to be prepared to say aloud the words for any place he was willing to put his tongue. Which, it turned out, was anywhere on her.

Sandor gave her a salacious smile, before placing his own tiles intersecting the available letter A. “’Orgasm’,” he said, “with triple letter scores on the R and the M. That’s my winning round.”

Sansa hesitated. She was on her last item of clothing after all. “But I must have won the game overall. That fifty points for using all my letters would have put me above you.”

“But that’s not what we agreed,” Sandor said smugly. “The first one to get naked loses, and the winner gets to pick what they want the loser to do to them. And you are about to be naked.” He leaned back in his chair and started at her with unabashed appreciation.

She stood up, then slowly tugged her sensible pale blue cotton underpants down, Sandor following her every move. She sat down again, suppressing a wince at the sensation of the hard wooden chair against her bare skin, making a mental note to clean the seat tomorrow.  

Sansa cleared her throat. “All right, you win. What do you want me to do to you?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected him to request. Taking him in her mouth probably, because she knew he liked that, although Sandor was the least predictable person she’d ever met so really he might come up with anything. His eyes travelling slowly over her body, though her lower half was hidden from his appraisal by the dining table. She tried not to shift under his gaze.

“I want to watch you on my cock,” he announced abruptly. “I want to watch you squirming around on top of me while you get yourself off.”

Sansa let out the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. “That’s it? You won, this is supposed to be for you, not me.”

“You think this isn’t for me?” Sandor’s gaze was intense. “Watching you while you wiggle around on my cock, forgetting to be embarrassed about touching yourself in front of me as you get more and more turned on. Seeing the redness from your face travel all the way down your chest until your tits go all pink before you come. And the sounds you make, fuck. I don’t think you realise how noisy you are.”

Sansa blinked, clutching the edge of the table. Her arousal was profound, and she was really going to have to clean her chair tomorrow.

“Little Bird,” he said, his voice gruffer than usual, “that will be years’ worth of wank material right there.”

She licked her lips and tried to speak, but all that came out was an aroused and slightly undignified squeak.

They sat, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but must have only been a matter of seconds.

She stood up and held out her hand for him.

“All right then,” she said, her voice sounding shockingly husky. “Come and get your prize.”

He threaded his fingers through hers and she pulled him down the hallway and into her room. His hand was warm and dry and his grasp was firm, but gentle as always.

And she liked it.

A lot.

Holding hands was not something they’d ever done, Sansa realised in that instant. It wasn’t like they were in a relationship, nor  as if they went anywhere in public together. Holding hands wasn’t part of their status quo.

She wished it was.

Before she could follow that thought too closely, she shoved it to the back of her mind.

Even so, she had a prickle of regret at the loss of that contact as he released her hand when they stood beside her bed. He pulled off his underwear and one remaining sock, then lay back against the pillows on her bed with his arms folded behind his head. His manhood appeared achingly hard, curving slightly against his belly. His lips twitched upwards in a faint smile as she regarded him, but he’d made no move to touch her since letting go of her hand.

He hadn’t specified that he didn’t want to be kissed or touched, but Sansa decided to stick to the letter of his request for her to do… things… that he could watch.

She took a deep breath to firm her resolve, then crawled onto the bed. She wobbled a little as she straddled him, for a moment at a loss without his usual firm grip on her hips to steady her.

Sandor kept his hands resolutely behind his head, and his eyes were wide in the dim light of the room.

His stomach muscles flexed under her hands as she lowered herself slowly onto him. She let out a long breath when he was fully inside of her, the now familiar sensation of being filled by him a welcome relief to the sexual tension of the evening.

Once she was sure of her balance, she bought her hands to rest above her breasts. Sandor’s gaze didn’t shift from her as she did so, and the feeling of power gave her a thrill of excitement. Sandor made a noise in the back of his throat as she cupped her breasts, grazing her nipples with her thumbs. Jolts of pleasure shot down her body straight to her core, and she slowly rocked on top of him as she thumbed her nipples under Sandor’s avid gaze. After a time she moved her hands over her breasts and down, fingertips tracing the faint silvery lines on her stomach from when she carried Kat within her body.  

Sandor’s gaze upon her was almost too intense, and she shut her eyes to suppress any self-consciousness as she began to touch herself between her legs. She ground against him more firmly to heighten her pleasure as she rubbed her fingertips over herself. She shifted her hand even further down, tracing where their bodies joined and moved together. Sandor groaned as she slid her fingers either side of his desperately hard manhood. She moved her slick fingers back to keep rubbing her clit and couldn’t contain her own moan of pleasure. The muscles in her thighs were starting to burn from keeping her balance without his support, but the slick hot itchy feeling of her impending orgasm was too overwhelming to care about anything else.

She cried out in relief as her climax hit, slumping forward with both hands on Sandor’s stomach whilst she caught her breath.

Sandor sat up abruptly, slipping a hand behind her back to steady her. He threaded the other into her hair and finally kissed her. She moaned into his mouth and cupped his face with both hands, one against his scars and one tangled in his beard, kissing him with relief. The pleasure had been intense, but she loved this part, being so close to him, feeling cherished.

He rolled them both backwards on the bed, so he was on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust into her twice then groaned brokenly as he reached his own climax more quickly than usual.

“Fuck, that was so fucking sexy,” he rasped against her mouth after a few moments, his hair flopping down to form a dark curtain around them.

She reached up to smooth his hair back and smiled at him. “I still won the game overall. I only lost on a technicality.”

He laughed, which was an interesting sensation as it made his softening manhood twitch inside her. “You’ll have to think of something for me to do to you to make up for it.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” said Sansa with mock gravity, before kissing him again.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for Betaing this chapter!
> 
> My apologies for the unforseen delay on the chapter, and, well...

Sansa started awake at the beeping noise. She thought for a moment Arya must be messaging her about Kat, so she sat up in alarm and grabbed her phone, grumbling in confusion when the screen was blank. She glanced over at the bulky form of Sandor lying in the bed beside her.

“It’s mine,” he rasped, blinking blearily at his own phone screen.

“Right. Of course. Arya would have knocked on the door,” Sansa said, mostly to herself, her hand on her chest over her racing heart.

Sandor lowered his phone a little as she twisted to look at him properly. The light from the screen highlighted his scars, and the sight made her want to stroke his face. His hair was messy from sleep and their… activities after the game of strip Scrabble.

“Your sister wouldn’t fuck around if there was a problem with your Kitten,” he said softly.

Sansa flopped backwards and manoeuvred to snuggle into Sandor’s side. “You’re right,” she replied. “So who’s messaging you at…” she paused and raised her head to read the glowing numbers on the bedside alarm clock, “…three am?”

Sandor looked back at the screen and made a noise of discontent. “Beric’s having a crisis over his Tiefling sorcerer. He’s worried that making too much of his dragonblood sorcerer abilities will conflict with his roleplaying as a Tiefling.”

Sansa didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but she hummed and nodded against his arm. “Is this usual for him?”

“Beric’s a crazy cunt.” Sandor’s voice was matter of fact. “He’s probably been getting visions from the fire again. Last time he did that, he rang Varys to suggest that the goblins in his game were banding together to form a goblin conspiracy and that he needed to rally our party and go on crusade.”

He typed a reply to Beric, and Sansa idly stroked his chest hair.

She was drifting back to sleep when the phone beeped again.

“Fuck’s sake,” muttered Sandor, who hadn’t yet put down his phone. “I should have put the fucker on silent.”

“Is he still talking about his character?” Sansa murmured into Sandor’s upper arm, his stray arm hairs tickling her lips.

“Yeah. It’s his fucking fault he insisted on being both a Tiefling and dragonblooded. So what, his great grandfather was a dragon who flew around and fucked humans and his father was a devil who also liked to fuck humans? That’s just fucking weird.”

“I always believed people in roleplaying games went around slaying things and saving worlds.” The conversation was waking Sansa up, and she moved to rest her head on the front of Sandor’s shoulder, keeping her arm slung over his chest. “It’s more complex than I thought.”

Sandor snorted and tossed his phone back onto the bedside table. “There’s a lot going on, and it’s pretty fucking fun.” He rolled over to face Sansa, gathering her into his arms as he did so. “Don’t tell that group of cunts I play with that I said so,” he said into her hair before kissing the top of her head.

Sansa sighed happily and relaxed into his embrace. He smelled faintly of a comforting mixture of sweat, sex, and himself. There was nowhere else in all of Westeros that Sansa would rather have been at that moment.

Affection for him almost overwhelmed her. She tightened her grip on him and he stroked her hair in return.

This was _love._

The realisation stuck her between one breath and the next, and she felt herself stiffen.

Sandor made a wordless sound of enquiry as she did, and she purposely relaxed her body, melding herself back into his arms.

Sansa’s thoughts raced. She knew she loved Kat, Lady, Arya, and the rest of her family. That kind of love existed crystal clear, solid and true, and she’d never doubted it, never been uncertain about it.

She’d fancied herself in love with Joffrey, initially, at least, assuming she’d spend her life with him. But what she felt for Sandor was different. It would be comparing a snowdrift to the Wall. A single struggling little bird to a whole thriving flock.

Her love for Joffrey had been the lifeless great oak heart tree in Kings Landing. It had nothing compared to the living, striking, _real_ Weirwood heart trees here in the north, nothing compared to the strong, brave man beside her.

She loved Sandor, and her love was so big she hadn’t seen it.

She’d been looking for something less.

Something smaller.

Sansa wiggled back to look at him, but without the light from the phone, the room was too dark to see. She pulled an arm free instead and stroked his face. The unscarred side, since it was facing up.

She ran her fingertips over his features, tracing his eyebrow, nose, and lips.

His big hand came up to stroke her face in return, mirroring her gesture. She opened her mouth as his thumb ran over her bottom lip, letting it slip into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it, echoing what she would do when taking his manhood in her mouth. The memory of that was arousing, and Sandor seemed to have the same thought because he made a faint growling noise in the back of his throat and moved even closer to her.

He moved his hand to cradle the back of her head and leaned in to kiss her.

His kisses had been so cautious when they first became involved, Sansa recalled vividly as Sandor’s lips touched hers. She suspected she was the only woman who’d ever been willing to kiss him, and that made her unbearably sad on his behalf. Sansa kissed him harder, trying to channel all her love and affection into that small act. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and he groaned and responded in kind, his fingers clenching in her hair, skirting on the edge of painful.

There was a noise from the bedside table as Sandor’s phone buzzed instead of beeped.

He pulled back enough to whisper, “Fuck off, Beric,” against her lips, which was not the most romantic thing anyone had ever said whilst kissing her, but she was too aroused to care at that moment.  

They kissed for a while longer, Sansa basking in his nearness. She twisted in his arms until her back was to him and pressed her bottom against his hard manhood.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he murmured into the back of her head as he ran his hand over to her front to pinch a nipple.

Suddenly desperate for him, she rolled further forward onto her front, then onto her forearms and knees.

Sandor took a sharp breath, shoved off the blankets and manoeuvred himself behind her.

He leaned over to tap the bedside lamp, turning it onto its dimmest setting. Sansa grumbled at the flash of light and buried her face into the pillow but arched her hips invitingly towards him anyway.

He stroked her flank with heartbreaking tenderness. “I want to watch my cock in you, Little Bird,” he said gruffly.

She made a noise of assent and wiggled her hips.

He lined himself up and slid slowly into her. Sansa moaned into the pillow, then moved her head enough so her eyes didn’t have to adjust to the light but she could breathe more easily.

Sandor didn’t seem to be in any hurry, his movements inside her languid and careful. His hands roamed over her back and bottom and she loved the combination of feeling cherished contrasting to being opened so intimately to him.

Sansa kept her arms up by her head, leaning onto her forearms. She didn’t want to touch herself the way she’d done earlier in the night. No, she wanted to concentrate on Sandor moving inside of her rather than focus on her own conclusion.

She was moaning in earnest by the time Sandor sped up his movements. He gripped her hips and began pounding into her. Sansa’s head spun with the pleasure of it and she clenched herself around him.

She focused on the slap of flesh on flesh, the heat of Sandor inside her, her enjoyment of his movements.

The sensations were overwhelming, Sansa unable to focus on anything other than her own pleasure. Her orgasm burned bright, and she peaked without even touching herself, wailing into the pillow as she did so.

She was dimly aware of Sandor giving a grunt of satisfaction at her climax, before he pounded into her even harder and groaned out his own release.

Sansa crumbled, limbless in afterglow, and Sandor tucked himself behind her. They lay like that, drifting in the aftermath for some time, until Sandor got up, taking away his warmth, to Sansa’s displeasure. She should go to the bathroom and clean up, she supposed, but her knees were still wobbly.

She stirred as Sandor sat on the bed, then rolled onto her back and stretched. He held what looked to be a damp face cloth. He bent down to kiss her again as he gently placed the warm cloth between her legs. She murmured her thanks against his mouth as she wiped the traces of their activities away. He put the cloth in the washing basket when she was finished, then came back to bed and gathered her into an embrace like he had earlier.

She loved him. Should she say something?

Sansa hummed sleepily, pressing her face into Sandor’s neck like she had before they had sex. Made love?

Sandor was a man who Sansa thought would appreciate gestures rather than a spoken declaration of her feelings. Yes, their relationship was supposed to be physical, but the tender way Sandor treated her, he must feel something other than lust. Mustn’t he? Perhaps?

Sansa frowned against Sandor’s neck, gathering her courage.

“Sandor?” she said, her voice loud in the pre-dawn silence.

“Little Bird?” he mumbled, resting his chin against the top of her head.

Sansa took a long breath to steady herself. “Would you be my date for the Winterfell charity dinner?”

There was a pause.

The silence became ugly as Sandor didn’t respond.

His body silently tensed in her arms, his breathing growing shallower.

Sansa sat up in alarm and looked at him, desperate to avoid a repeat of when he refused to answer her invitation to do something together.

“Sandor?” she said, nervous at his continuing silence.

He sat up too, his face utterly expressionless.

She spoke up again. “You wouldn’t have to do anything except eat the meal. And you already know Stannis and Davos, you could talk about your work with them.” Sansa was babbling, but Sandor’s lack of response unnerved her.

“Ah,” she continued nervously, “I know that Arya and Gendry won’t be there, and they are your friends, but Arya has her biology symposium that weekend.”

Sandor abruptly got out of bed. He looked wildly around for his scattered clothing and started to pull them back on.

“And. Um. She loves symposia.” The familiar feeling of panic started to flood her. She hunched forward and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’d hate to ask her to leave early to come back for the charity event. Sandor?” Her voice trailed off.

Sandor buttoned up his shirt, eyes firmly on his task.

“I could have asked Ygritte, or even Hot Pie,” Sansa was whispering now, “but I wanted to ask you.”

Sandor suddenly spoke, looking towards somewhere around her feet. “This was a mistake,” he rasped.

“What… what was a mistake?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

He wordlessly gestured between the two of them.

A rushing noise blared in Sansa’s ears. Her breathing rose in volume, each breath sounding harshly in her ears.

She moved her hand to grasp her blankets, but it felt like it didn’t belong to her, her whole body sat numb and foreign. She pulled up the blankets to cover her nudity, suddenly ashamed to be undressed and vulnerable in front of him. 

Sandor’s expression had shifted, the blankness cracking into pain. “We can’t be anything more than… this.” He said, motioning to the bed, to her.

“I know that’s what I asked you for,” Sansa said in a small voice. “But things have changed since then. This hasn’t been… what I was expecting.” His face became blurry as tears started to roll quietly down her cheeks.

Sandor pulled his jumper over his head and Sansa’s head spun with how quickly everything was falling apart.

She had the sudden recollection of the first time she’d met Sandor, how he’d seemed like he was filled with contempt for her as a person, as an anxious single mother intruding on his space. She believed his actions since had proven that thought wrong, but she felt like she was back there, a target for his rage again.

“We can’t go to a fucking charity evening.” His voice was harsh and grating, just like it had been back when they first met. “We can’t go to an art gallery, a café, a park. It’s not possible to go anywhere together, and that’s not a fucking relationship.”

Sansa’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces of frigid northern ice. She swallowed and held her chin high, trying to clutch onto her dignity. She forced herself to speak, to try and tell him what she should have realised before this night. “But I lo…”

“NO,” he shouted over the top of her words, his face twisted in anguish. “No, Sansa,” he said, far more quietly.

He hadn’t called her by name before. He’d only ever used his nickname for her.

She wanted to take her words back, rewind time to stop herself asking him for anything.

He looked at her properly, the blankness returning to his face. He grabbed his phone then turned and stormed out of her bedroom, out of her house.

Sansa sat in her bed, naked and alone, and cried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the unforseen delay on the chapter, and, well... feel free to let me know how you feel about this one!
> 
> *runs and hides*


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVED all the responses to the last chapter! Thank you all so much for the comments, I felt both evil and honoured, haha. This chapter is VERY different to that one...
> 
> Many thanks to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for always being nice about my grammatical mistakes and fixing them for me!

Arya scowled and tapped her fingers on the table. “I could talk to him?”

Sansa added another tissue to the crumpled damp pile beside her empty mug. “No,” she said, her voice husky from crying.

Arya pushed the tissue box closer so Sansa could take another. “Send him a message?”

“No,” said Sansa miserably.

Arya hummed. “Stab him?” 

Sansa looked at her sister, who winced at her appearance. Sansa’s face always puffed up and went blotchy when she cried. “For the last time, you aren’t allowed to stab people.”

“I wouldn’t kill Sandor,” Arya said defensively. “Just… wound him a little.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, Arya.”

“I don’t know how to help you.” Arya looked lost. “I haven’t even compiled a dossier on him . I didn’t think this would happen.”

Sansa took a long and unsteady breath. “I need to move forward, focus on my family. My life, my job.” She glanced over at the couch, where Kat was sitting with her chubby arm draped over Lady. They were both watching the feature length Dany and the Sparkle Dragons movie, in which Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal all assumed brightly coloured humanoid forms and saved the world through the power of friendship and vigorous dance . Sansa suspected Kat was sharing her bowl of Tiny Dragons cookies and blueberries with Lady, but they both appeared happy, so she let them be. She looked back at Arya. “If he doesn’t consider me good enough, I’m not going to chase him.”

Arya made a disgruntled noise. “He’s worried that people will stare at you for being seen with him in public.”

Sansa shut her eyes against the pain. “Then he should have told me that, not shouted and stormed off. I wasn’t even dressed at all,” she whispered the humiliating confession, “and he just left.”

Arya sighed heavily. “Yes, that was a dick move. Even for a clueless fucker like Sandor.”

“I messaged him to see if he wanted to talk about it yet, before you came over.” Sansa’s voice broke again, and she clenched her fists as she wrestled control of her emotions.

“And?”

A lone tear dripped down Sansa’s cheek. She wiped it away angrily, vexed with herself for being in such a state. “And he said there was nothing to discuss.”

Arya made a face. “That makes no sense,” she said, tapping her finger against the edge of the nearest coaster, “he told me that he didn’t want you to get shit over being with someone like him, that he thought you were amazing.”

Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a tension headache starting. “Then why didn’t he tell me that? If that’s what he feels.”

“Fucked if I know. These things are simpler with wolves. Humans are too fucking complicated. Especially that one.”

“I need some time. Everything was so intense with Sandor,” Sansa paused and forced herself to remain calm, “maybe I don’t really love him like I thought? Perhaps it was just the situation?”

Even as she spoke, she knew there was no truth in it. She was still in love with  Sandor, but he had rejected her.

“The L-word,” Arya breathed. “Fuck. I wish I wasn’t going away.”

Sansa made a dismissive gesture. “It’s alright,” she said as steadily as she could. “You’ve been looking forward to the biology symposium for ages.”

“I do love symposia,” said Arya wistfully.

“I know.” Sansa forced a watery smile. “It’s honestly fine.”

Arya stared at her through narrowed eyes. “I need to get something. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Arya left, the import of her words about what Sandor had said truly hit Sansa, and she burst into tears again. Wracking great sobs that she tried to stifle behind her fist.

Why would Sandor not tell her if he was worried to be seen with her, for her sake? Why let her believe he was embarrassed by her?

There was a shuffling in front of her, and Sansa wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, forgetting in her distress to use a tissue like she should.

Lady and Kat stood at her knee, both looking concerned. Kat’s bright hair was ruffled, and Sansa could see little chunks of blueberry  had been smeared into it.

“Hup?” said Kat, holding up her arms and wiggling her fingers.

Lady whined and gently rested her pale muzzle on Sansa’s knee.

Sansa patted Lady then lifted Kat onto her free leg. The toddler wrapped her arms around Sansa’s neck, and Sansa nuzzled the side of Kat’s head. The little girl smelled faintly of apple-scented shampoo, fresh blueberries, and Tiny Dragon cookies.

Sansa felt more tears come, and she tried to swallow them.

Kat leaned back to peer intently into Sansa’s face. “Oh, no, Mumma,” she said solemnly, stroking her sticky hand down Sansa’s tear stained cheek.

“I’m okay, Sweetling,” said Sansa tremulously. “I love you.”

Kat squealed with delight. “Luff Mumma!” she replied, then reached down and stroked Lady’s muzzle, which was still resting on Sansa’s other leg. “Luff Dee.”

Sansa gave a small huff of laughter. “And Lady loves you too.”

Kat snuggled against Sansa, who tightened her hold on her daughter. She held her child like she always had, close against her heart.

Regardless of what happened in the future, she had her family. The lone wolf died, but her pack would survive.

That thought gave her pause.

Sandor was a lone wolf, she realised. Perhaps he was scared at the idea of being part of a pack? She shook her head. She needed to let things calm down before trying to speak to him again.

Arya came back in a clatter of cursing, stumbling backwards through the front door, holding a box emblazoned with the words ‘Mikken and Son’s Finest Blacksmithing Supplies’.

“Okay,” Arya said triumphantly. “I raided Gendry’s stash of chocolate. You know I get  feral when I’m on my period, so he keeps a box of chocolates and hot water bottles to give me when I need them. He thinks it’s hidden, but I know where everything is. I just act surprised when he brings things out. ”

“Thanks, Arya.” Sansa was touched at Arya’s thoughtfulness.

Kat had gone stiff on Sansa’s lap. “GOG-GOG,” she said, sounding intense.

Arya staggered over and dropped the box on the table. She pulled out several large hot water bottles with brightly coloured knitted covers and placed them on the table beside the box. Then she grinned proudly as she removed a whole block of plain milk chocolate. “This gog-gog is for your Mummy, because the big ugly man she loves upset her.”

Sansa laughed wetly. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Kat wiggled frantically until Sansa let her down. She smiled sweetly at her aunt. “Gog-gog, _pwease_ ,” she asked with utmost politeness.

Arya snorted. “Hey look, Sansypants! She’s a mini you in more than just looks.” She broke off a chunk of the milk chocolate and handed it to her niece. “You win! Now go and watch your movie, Kitty Kat. Aunty Arya needs to use her swears while you aren’t listening.”

“Ta,” said Kat beatifically, and toddled off back to her movie, chocolate clutched triumphantly in her hand. Lady licked Sansa’s knee, and Sansa bent down to give the dog a kiss before she followed Kat.

Arya fossicked around in the box again. “Organic semi-dried heritage plum and activated almond ninety percent cocoa dark chocolate. How the fuck do you activate an almond? Why would you even want to? It’s a nut, not a fucking credit card. Gods, Gendry, why did you buy that one?” she muttered to her absent boyfriend. “Bringing that out during my period is going to make me angrier, not calmer. Looks like something fucking Stannis would serve in the Winterfell café.”

Sansa ran her fingertips over the thick knobbly stitching on one of the hot water bottle covers. The texture was soothing. Moss stitch , if she remembered correctly. “Is there caramel?”

Arya rustled around in the box. “Here you go. Triple caramello with extra caramel and a caramel ooze.” She handed Sansa the entire block. “Chocolate will ease your emotional pain, and if you give me a second, I’ll make you another cup of tea to go with it.”

Sansa felt a little better already, cheered by Arya’s thoughtfulness and Kat and Lady’s cuddles. “Thank you.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Arya pulled out another block and waved it at Sansa. “Gendry put some Wolfswood Forest flavour in here. I fucking love those cherry gummy chunks and little biscuit bits. Ugh. I really fucking love that ridiculous man.”

Sansa took a bite of her chocolate and chewed the sugary confection meditatively. It was so sweet it made her teeth hurt, but it was comforting.

Arya made them both tea, and they sat quietly, lost in an introspective haze of tea and chocolate.

No one had died, no one was sick, and all her loved ones were safe.

The perspective helped Sansa focus. She’d survived far worse than having her heart broken. She was brave and strong. She would take some time to collect her thoughts, and then talk to Sandor and work out if there was a future for them or not. And if not, she’d keep on surviving.

“Before I go to the symposium,” said Arya suddenly, “let’s have a girl’s night. I can invite Ygritte, Brienne, any other human women we think of. We can watch movies, eat ice cream, drink wine. Gendry can go and stay with Pod or someone for the night, and we can ask Shireen if she’ll babysit Kat.”

Sansa gave her sister a genuine smile. “That’s a good idea. It’ll be fun.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is so much going on in this chapter. So much! I had a blast writing it.
> 
> There are also a few ASoIaF book references here (Rickon’s appearance, Harry, ANYONE FROM DORNE OMG), but it should still make sense if you’ve only seen the show. 
> 
> We are winding down towards the end of the story (maybe 10ish chapters left?) so if you had any questions or anything please do ask me!
> 
> Thank you to [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) for her corrections which made the chapter much better!

Sansa grinned, admiring the girl before her .

Shireen Baratheon had the long-suffering expression of someone who was the only female in a household containing nine males. By all accounts, she wrangled the men in her life very effectively.

Sansa suspected she’d end up running the seven kingdoms one day. She wondered if Varys’s passing mention of the Baratheon political ambitions on the role-playing game evening she had attended had been referring to Shireen, but then she dismissed it. As bright as Shireen was, she was still a teenager and surely not a factor yet.

Shireen also had her hair flopping forward, covering the pronounced scars on her face. They looked like childhood greyscale, which was no longer fatal thanks to modern medicine. But bad cases always left some scarring. Sansa hated to think the teasing Shireen would have endured in her life over something she had no control over, a disfigurement that marked the young woman as a survivor. Shireen’s appearance was a visceral reminder of Sandor, and of how people must have treated him in judging only what they could see.

“Thanks for doing this, Shireen,” Sansa said, shoving away her emotions. She tightened her grasp on Kat, whom she had balanced on her hip. “Kat, do you remember Shireen? She’s going to be looking after you tonight.”

“Hi, Neen,” said Kat, resting her head on Sansa’s shoulder.

“Hi, Kat,” said Shireen, smiling at the little girl. “Are you ready to watch _Dany and the Sparkle Dragons_  with me?”

“DANY?” exclaimed Kat in the voice she usually reserved for when chocolate was in the offing.

“Before you two take over my house with dragons and glitter,” Arya interjected, “I’ve got something extra for you on top of the cash payment and pizza delivery of your choice.”

She grinned and held up her phone so Shireen could see. Sansa and Kat watched over Arya’s shoulder.

Sansa smiled as Rickon’s face appeared on the screen. He looked like a male version of their mother, Cat Stark, strongly favouring the Tully side of the family; as both she and little Kat did.

“Hi, Shireen,” Rickon said on the clip, and Shireen made a squealing noise and clapped her hands over her mouth.

“Look, it’s Uncle Rickon,” Sansa murmured to Kat.

“Kon,” Kat repeated quietly, her eyes fixed to the screen.

“Arya asked me to record this for you,” Rickon continued, “because she says you are my biggest fan. You are ShireenSummerGirl, yeah? Because I got the fanart of me you sent.”

He held up a hand drawn picture. Sansa recognised it as a portrait of him, but with enormous luminous eyes and an array of stars and what looked like a Skagosian unicorn in the background, all lovingly rendered in pastel colours. Arya coughed into her free hand, seemingly stifling a laugh. Sansa kicked her in the ankle. Luckily, Shireen’s rapt attention was still on the clip.

“I love it! Thanks for all your hard work. I organised my RickonBoi Tubers to give you something in return. Come on in everyone.” Rickon waved his arm, moved out of shot, and music started. It was similar in sound to the catchy pop numbers produced by the signature Dany and the Sparkle Dragons Symphony Orchestra, but with a more pronounced beat.

An array of smiling women, of various shades, shapes, and sizes, dance-walked onto the screen (except the woman in a wheelchair who spun and did wheelies). The common element between them was their matching fur bikinis, bright red and fuzzy. They were holding pieces of paper with large printed letters, hoisting them up so they spelled Shireen’s name. Well, Sansa noticed, initially they spelled “Shirnee”, but they hastily rearranged themselves when someone realised the mistake.

“They are so cool,” Shireen whispered, still with her hands over her mouth.

“I want to make you an honorary Tuber,” said Rickon, his face reappearing after the dancers had danced/wheelied off the screen. “I’ll only send you a signed certificate though, because I’ve met your Dad and he would legit murder me if I sent you one of the RickonBoi Tuber bikinis.”

The women hummed in agreement and nodded in unison, including Shireen.

“Okay, bye, Shireen!” Rickon grinned and blew the camera a kiss. Shireen made an extremely high-pitched squeaking noise, and across the room, Lady started barking. “Like and subscribe if you’ve enjoyed this video, and you can find more quality RickonBoi content if you click here and here.” He pointed at the top and bottom left of the screen, though there was nothing there.

Arya made a derisive noise and clicked off her phone screen.

“You didn’t need to do anything that awesome,” said Shireen, looking teary, “I would have babysat for you anyway.”

Arya dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “I knew you were a fan of the little shit, and he was happy to do it. It’s just an extra thank you for helping out tonight.”

“Dany?” said Kat eagerly.

An hour later, Shireen and Kat were happily installed at Arya’s house. Shireen had bought along a sizable collection of her step-brother Steffon’s old _Dany and the Sparkle Dragons_ merchandise for Kat to play with. Arya had organised for a cheese pizza (Kat) and vegetable pizza (Shireen) to be delivered.

Brienne, Ygritte, Gilly, Arya, and Sansa (and Lady) were at Sansa’s house. The kitchen bench sat crowded with the variety of food everyone had bought over for the occasion.

Sansa emptied Brienne’s homemade baked kale chips into a serving bowl, as the large policewoman was outside showing a fascinated Gilly how to do something called ‘casing the perimeter’. “What’s so interesting about the pie, Ygritte?”

Ygritte hovered near a large pie sitting amongst the culinary riches. “This is the pirog that Gilly baked! You’ll love it.”

Sansa paused in between moving the bowl of kale chips aside and reaching for Arya’s packet of double-fried, triple hot, chilli-flavoured potato crisps. “A pir-what?”

“A pirog,” Ygritte said happily, “it’s a type of Free Folk pie.”

Arya entered the kitchen as Ygritte spoke, and immediately assumed a suspicious expression. She bent down to sniff the pie. “What’s in it, fish?”

Ygritte scowled. “We eat more than just fish north of the Wall.”

“Yes, you also eat soup made with rancid cabbages and the always terrifying bear-paw stew,” Arya said, giving a delicate shudder. “Bran swears by the stuff.”

Ygritte huffed. “Gilly said it was a fruit pirog. And the cabbages are not rancid, they are fermented and pickled.”

Arya snorted sceptically. “There’s fish in here somewhere, isn’t there?”

Sansa waved at Arya with one of the brownies she was stacking into a neat pile. “Arya, we don’t question people’s cultural traditions.”

Arya simply raised her eyebrows.

Ygritte growled under her breath. “Fine. There is fish fat in the pastry. But once you cover everything in cottage cheese you won’t taste it.”

“That sounds…” Sansa paused over the brownie tower and tried to think of a diplomatic way to describe the pie, “…interesting. I’d love to try some, and so will Arya.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “That’s right, because we don’t question people’s cultural traditions and fish-fruit pie sounds great.”

Ygritte gave an evil grin. “Just for that, I’m bringing bear-paw stew to our next movie night.”

Brienne stuck her head into the kitchen. She looked a touch ruffled. “Bear-paw stew? We have a freezer full of bear paws, if you would like one.” She wrinkled her nose. “Tormund knows a man who sells Free Folk food here in the ‘south’”—she made air quotes—“and he swears it’s all legal. I won’t have contraband in my house.”

“Thanks, Brienne,” said Ygritte. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“You want some fish-fruit pie?” asked Arya innocently.

“Oh, pirog,” said Brienne with almost as much enthusiasm as Ygritte, “we also have a large supply of fish fat in our freezer. Tormund uses his grandmother’s recipe.”

After the food had been moved to the coffee table in front of the television, Sansa was about to sit on the couch and settle herself in when she heard Arya’s voice say Sandor’s name from the kitchen. She stopped so she could listen.

“How’s the big guy going after he managed to dump the hottest woman he’ll ever convince into bed?” Arya said.

Ygritte’s voice was muffled, Sansa suspected through a mouthful of pie. “He’s really fucking sad, but he’s hiding it under being an ass.”

“More than usual?” Arya sounded dubious. “How can you tell?”

“Well,” Ygritte continued, “he’s been shouting at neglectful pet owners more often, and spending all of his free time with Marigold, Stranger, and the kittens. Oh, and he took Hot Pie’s cake from the staffroom and ate the whole thing by himself.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It was a fucking chocolate mud cake too, the asshole. I’d been looking forward to a piece of that.”

Sansa sat down on the couch then, not wanting to hear any more. Her heart already hurt too much to dwell on Sandor’s pain. She’d not been upset after Joffrey, only relieved, but she was a whirlpool of emotions over Sandor.

The other women all came to sit on the couch and pillows on the floor. Sansa sat between Gilly and Arya.

Gilly shifted forward to talk to Arya. “What are we watching tonight, Arya?”

There was a brief scuffle as Lady inserted herself on the seat between the sisters. Sansa gave an unladylike grunt as the large, gangly, adolescent dog leaned her full weight against her.

Arya gave Lady a vigorous head scratch. “It’s a modern classic: _The Prince Groom_. I tried to find something we’d all enjoy, which was not fucking easy at all. Between Brienne’s sports, my action, Ygritte’s horror movies and Sansypants’s boring documentaries…”

“Hey!” exclaimed Sansa indignantly.

“…it seemed the best choice.” Arya stuck her tongue out at Sansa.

“Oh, I haven’t seen it,” said Gilly, looking intrigued.

Sansa gently pushed Lady’s muzzle out of her hair, ignoring the antics of her sister. “Neither have I,” she said. “I think it came out when I was in King’s Landing and pregnant with Kat.”

Arya grinned. “You’ll love it.”

“It’s a wonderful movie,” said Brienne from her spot on the floor. “Tormund always cries when we watch it.”

Ygritte laughed. “To be fair, Tormund cries at everything. I caught him crying the other day because one of the kittens touched another kitten on the nose with her paw. Hot Pie had to give him a bro hug to calm things down again.”

Gilly hummed in agreement. “It’s a manly thing, to be so in touch with your emotions.”

Arya nibbled on one of her extra-hot chilli crisps, looking sceptical.

Ygritte nodded sagely. “It’s important in Free Folk culture to be open about how we feel. It’s what makes Free Folk men the best lovers.”

Brienne gave a happy sigh and got a faraway look in her eyes.

Sansa tried to picture Sandor being anything that might be defined as ‘open’ about how he felt, actually telling her his apparent fears rather than holding them in and lashing out. Tears pricked her eyelids, and she blinked them away, refocusing on the discussion.

“…a farm boy, Clematis, who falls in love with a milkmaid, North,” Arya was saying. “North goes off to earn enough money so they can be married, but then Clematis is told she has been killed by a pirate. So after that he becomes engaged to an evil princess, but he gets kidnapped by a small band of lively mercenaries! I don’t want to give spoilers though, you need to watch it. The Dornish swordswoman is my favourite character.”

Sansa frowned as she tried to remember everything she’d heard about the movie. “Is that the Tyrene Sand character?”

“Tyrene Sand is a wonderful actress,” said Gilly wistfully. “She’s so beautiful.”

“I knew she was in the movie because my midwife Maester Alleras mentioned once that their sister Tyrene was a film star,” Sansa said. “They had some of Tyrene’s film posters in their office, including this one.”

“No,” Arya said, “Tyrene Sand is the milkmaid, North. They put her in a blonde wig so she would appear less Dornish? I don’t know. Stop trying to make me spoil the plot!”

“Jaqen H'ghar plays the Dornish swordswoman, Gina Myotonio,” said Brienne. “She is also my favourite character. I’m a great admirer of quality swordsmanship.”

“I thought Jaqen H'ghar was a man?” Sansa said, putting her hand up to block Lady from licking her cheek.

Arya made a dismissive gesture with the hand now holding a chunk of brownie. “No one is quite sure. He’s got a different face in every movie. He says that gender is an outdated, restrictive construct and that people may address him by any pronoun they wish.”

Ygritte nodded approvingly and smiled. “My favourite is Harrold Hardyng as Clematis. He’s hot as fuck. I’d share my bedroll with him any time.”

“I heard he started to get called Harry the Heir when he ran for political office in the Vale,” said Sansa, recalling Joffrey’s disparaging remarks at the time. “Not that _that_ went well for him…”

Arya selected the movie and pressed play. “Come on, everyone, less fangirling and more movie watching!”

Leaning back, cuddling (and defending her snacks from) Lady and watching the movie, Sansa found her thoughts straying. Harry Hardyng was an attractive man, even when he was being carted around the countryside by a band of female mercenaries including the Dornish swordswoman, a tiny woman, and their taciturn leader. She tried to imagine someone like Harry staring admiringly at her lady parts, telling her she had the prettiest cunt he’d ever seen before sliding his fingers inside of her and making her moan. Try as she might, she didn’t find the idea of being with anyone other than Sandor appealing right now.

She sighed. Bouts of missing Sandor seemed to strike her constantly. So many things reminded her of him. Dwelling on it only made her sadder.

He would be at his RPG night tonight, playing his halfling barbarian. She wondered if his thoughts ever strayed to her, the same way hers were often of him. She hoped Hot Pie had bought along a nice cake for Sandor to steal.

Sansa sighed again, ignoring the movement of Arya twisting to look at her. She stared resolutely at the movie, stroking the now sleeping Lady’s ears.

Gilly clapped and cheered when the Happy Pirate Orbrest was revealed to be the milkmaid, North, who was there to rescue her lover Clematis.

Ygritte leaned sideways on the armchair to face Sansa. “Did you hear about Harry being involved at another shot at political power that went bad, even after the drama in the Vale? He had an advisor that kept getting more publicity more than Harry.”

Arya snorted, causing Lady to wake up and gaze at her reproachfully. “I remember that from the news, the advisor was so creepy. What was his name? Patrice, Pete, Fabio? One of those sorts of names.”

“You mean Petyr Baelish?” said Brienne, who was in the middle of sorting her serving of kale chips from smallest to largest. “He is on... well I can’t talk about that.” She coughed delicately into her fist.

“Wait, I’ve met him. He was one of Joffrey’s associates,” said Sansa, scowling at the memory.

“Was he now?” Brienne narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, he came to our house a couple of times. He would stare at my...” Sansa glanced down at her chest and cleared her throat. “He would stare at me and say that he knew Mum when they were children.”

Arya swallowed her mouthful of pirog (she was now on her third helping) and laughed. “You’re allowed to say tits, Sansa. We’re all adults.”

“I don’t… It’s not… Oh, hush, Arya! Anyway, I hadn’t thought about him since I left Kings Landing. He was creepy.”

Arya suddenly clutched Sansa’s hand in excitement, bosoms and politics swept aside. “Here’s the part where they are in the swamp with the Completely Average Rats. The CARs are so gross!”

They all focused on the movie again. Sansa tried a slice of the pirog before Arya could consume it all. Ygritte was right, the cottage cheese over the top of the fruit pie covered any fishy taste.

Sansa had a lump in her throat when the movie ended and internally cursed her volatile mood. Maybe it wasn’t the best time in her life to watch a movie featuring romance, even if it had been interrupted by political discussions.

Arya dug her sharp elbow into Sansa’s side. “It’s okay to keep being randomly sad, big sister. Your Friendship Support Team is on hand to help you feel better.”

Sansa felt a lone tear roll down her face. “I’m fine,” she said in a wobbly voice.

Gilly leapt to her feet. “I’ll fetch the ice cream. How much do we need? Is this situation ‘Sad Breakup’, ‘Angry Breakup’, ‘On a Break’, or ‘Just an Argument’?”

“We’re not quite sure,” Arya interjected. “Get her something between ‘Sad Breakup’ and ‘Just an Argument’.”

“Okay,” said Gilly, striding into action, “five scoops it is.”

After everyone had consumed a copious amount of ice cream (except for Brienne, who had protein-infused whipped frozen banana, which she claimed was every bit as good), Ygritte produced a bottle of Free Folk whisky and poured shots for them all, which was apparently the traditional way to conclude women-only meetings.

“You are literally the best thing to ever happen to Sandor.” Ygritte toasted Sansa with her whiskey. “He’s a smart guy. Give him some time then he’ll want to sort things out.”

Ice cream had bolstered both Sansa’s resolve and her mood. “I know. I just miss seeing him, talking with him.”

“Really?” said Ygritte. “Ah, I mean of course you do,” she amended when Gilly glared at her.

“And if you stop missing him and start being mad, you can always take me up on my offer,” Arya said cheerfully.

“What did you offer, Arya?” asked Gilly.

Sansa groaned. “She offered to injure him.”

“I did not hear that,” said Brienne, frowning at Arya.

“Just a flesh wound,” said Arya mulishly.

Tormund arrived soon after to give Gilly, Ygritte, Shireen, and of course Brienne a ride home.

Sansa hugged Arya goodnight outside her house after their guests had gone, with a sleeping Kat draped over her shoulder and Lady snuffling happily around the steps. She loved being outside at night, with the crisp cold and the startlingly clear sky. She always looked around, but hadn’t recently had any indication of a potential stalker, a fact which gave her untold relief.

Arya lightly ruffled Kat’s soft curls so as not to disturb her. “The Lone Wolf dies,” she said quietly.

“But the Pack survives,” Sansa finished, and went back into her house with Lady and her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually watched The Princess Bride last Saturday with my kids for family pizza/movie night, which is what gave me the idea to use it (well, a gender bent version!) in this chapter. I did have a conversation with my 10 year old daughter (I'll call her S) beforehand that made me laugh a lot: 
> 
> S (cautiously): “What’s the Princess Bride about?”  
> Me (flippantly): “Mmm, a princess and a bride!”  
> S (sounding intrigued): “Oh is it about a cute lesbian couple?”  
> Me (blinking): “Ah no. The princess and the bride are the same person. There’s a romance between a man and a woman.”  
> S (disappointed): “Aww. That’s the same as every movie then.”  
> Me (ruffling her hair): “It’s still really good, I promise.”  
> S (dubiously): “Alright, I’ll give it a chance...”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a small warning for potentially upsetting content on this chapter, which I will include in the end note so as to avoid spoilers. Check there first if you'd like a heads up :-)
> 
> My Beta [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo) was a superstar in this chapter. You can thank her for the fact that yes, Stannis absolutely uses semi-colons in text messages.

Leaves crunched underfoot and the faint scent of sulphur drifted in the air from Winterfell’s hot springs as Sansa absently jingled her jacket pocket filled with too many keys. Her own house and work keys on the sparkling ‘S’ keyring were now combined with Arya’s truck and house keys on the pink, fluffy wolf plush keyring that Rickon had given Arya on her last nameday.

Arya had theatrically left Sansa with the keys to her giant four-wheel-drive truck when she and Gendry left for her biology symposium.

“How is that fair? You won’t let me drive The Beast,” Gendry had complained. “I’m stuck with my beat-up old car. It still has that hole in the backseat where I spilled molten iron on the upholstery.”

“Which is completely batshit, makes no sense, and is my main motivation for not letting you anywhere near my truck,” Arya had replied. “The other reason being you drive like a horde of White Walkers are chasing you. Sansa drives like Old Nan. The Beast is safe in her hands.”

Sansa had gracefully pledged to keep driving like their beloved, long-departed family child minder. It was a shame she didn’t have time for any long road trips whilst Arya was away. She needed to stay nearby to assist with the preparations for tomorrow’s Winterfell charity evening.

Her traitorous brain supplied the notion of how fun it would be to go on holiday with Sandor. There were places she’d always wanted to visit but hadn’t yet had the chance. Glamping north of the Wall, strolling along Dornish beaches, watching the herds of wild horses run in the endless Dothraki sea. Even simple things close to home, like visiting the park with Sandor and watching Kat and the dogs play, going out to dinner together or walking down the street holding hands.

She angrily swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back her tears. This was neither the time nor the place to dwell on what she had quite possibly lost, what she’d know for certain she’d lost if Sandor would agree to hold a conversation like a reasonable adult.

“MUMMA, SEE!” Kat came bounding up to her, Lady at her heels, holding a small white wildflower in her hand.

Sansa realised she’d stopped in the middle of the path then, halfway through their walk into the Godswood. She dutifully admired the flower, kissed Kat’s cheek, patted Lady, and resumed her route, focusing on the serenity of the ancient grove, the bubbling brooks, the rustling of leaves, the creaking of aged tree branches.

Even the joyful noise of human toddler and adolescent Skagosian husky energetically playing didn’t disturb the peace. It felt right, as if the Old Gods approved of another generation enjoying this ancient place.

She paused in the centre of the grove, watching Kat run. The wolf ears atop Kat’s knitted hat bobbed as she flailed her arms wildly, with Lady making excited ‘wuff’ noises bounding along with her.

Kat wore her new navy-blue corduroy overalls, complete with a little cartoon lion embroidered on the pocket and a chain of red roses along the cuffs of the pants and on the shoulder straps. They had arrived in the post last week, courtesy of Tyrion. Sansa had laughed, because knowing him the design was a reminder that Kat was not entirely wolf. Of course Arya hated them, but Sansa didn’t mind. If the Lannister family could produce Jaime and Tyrion, they mustn’t be all bad.

Sansa snapped a photo of Kat joyously playing chase with Lady, with messy auburn curls poking out from under her wolf beanie and a huge grin on her little face. She sent it in an SMS to Tyrion, though it surprised her to note the message didn’t register as delivered. He must have switched his phone off for once. Her phone battery was low, too, so she’d have to charge it when they went back inside.

Kat and Lady ran closer to the heart tree, so Sansa moved to sit on one of its huge above ground roots. The carved face in the tree regarded her impassively and she smiled at it in greeting.

Her parents had married here, in front of the Old Gods, like Starks had done since time immemorial. Her mother had kept the faith of the Seven, so they’d also had a sept ceremony. Ned and Cat Stark had let their children decide their own religious preferences, and Sansa herself was largely indifferent. Whenever she stood in the presence of the heart tree, though, there was always a prickle of awareness, a sense of connection to past, present, and future.

She’d always considered she’d like to get married here, following in the footsteps of her family tradition. She shut down that line of thought before it had a chance to take root. Contemplating marriage at the moment would just make her sad.

Kat shrieked with glee, her arms flung around Lady’s middle. Lady’s tongue lolled out in a happy dog laugh.

Her phone beeped with a message. Sansa grimaced. It seemed vaguely blasphemous to use her phone whilst sitting on something her Stark ancestors regarded as sacred.

“Sorry,” she muttered to the ancient face carved into the tree, and stood up. The message was from Stannis.

 

**Stannis [1.31pm]: Sansa. Re: Winterfell Charity Dinner. Could you please follow up with the suppliers for the organic, hand-harvested rocket. They are due to deliver it tomorrow morning, but I require another confirmation as to its harvest date. For some reason they are not picking up my calls. It is imperative that the rocket-leaf foam is made from only the freshest produce; it will be inadequate on the palate otherwise. This is of the utmost importance.**

 

Sansa warred internally between exasperation and amusement. The humour of the situation won, and she laughed. She hadn’t laughed much lately, and it felt good. She replied to Stannis.

 

**Sansa [1.33pm]: Hi Stannis, that’s no prob. Will give them a call.**

 

She hit send and huffed a laugh again. Hopefully the organic, hand-harvested rocket people were just ignoring Stannis and still intended to deliver their product. She’d already needed to find a replacement for their original supplier of the exact type of Dornish oranges that Stannis needed for the entrée after he questioned their commitment to environmental sustainability. There turned out to be surprisingly few companies who grew oranges of the required (Stannis’s) standard who were also willing to deliver this far north. Negotiations had been delicate, but successful. Never let it be said that she couldn’t play one faction against another. Sansa would be glad when the dinner was over, though she’d enjoyed being able to go to work and be so busy that she would temporarily forget the shambles of her romantic life.

Kat was still in her line of sight, dancing amongst the wildflowers, but Sansa realised her playmate had gone.

“Where’s Lady?” Sansa said aloud, then raised her voice. “LADY?”

Kat stopped mid-twirl and teetered on her feet, but remained upright. She looked around, too. “Dee?” she said. “Where Dee?”

She wouldn’t have gone far. Lady was always immaculately well behaved. Sansa could hardly believe she’d ever run off. Fear prickled down her spine. Lady must have gone to investigate a sound or a smell. Even the best dog sometimes got distracted. She looked around frantically, but she saw no sign of the dog.

“Dee gone,” said Kat solemnly, a frown line appearing between her blue eyes.

Still looking around the Godswood, Sansa picked Kat up and settled the little girl on her hip.

“Let’s just have a quick look for Lady,” Sansa said with false cheer. “She won’t have gone far.”

Kat’s lower lip wobbled. “Mumma, where Dee?”

Sansa refused to acknowledge the fear clutching at her chest.

“Silly Lady.” Sansa kept her voice bright. “She’s off playing a game without us.”

She walked around the edge of the clearing, peering into the trees. They both called Lady’s name, and Sansa tried to find any traces of where she might have gone.

After what seemed like an eternity, but must have only been a few minutes, there was a rustling noise close by and Lady came running out of the trees. In clear distress, Lady ran on three legs, crashing face-first into the ground several times before she reached Sansa and Kat. Sansa dropped to her knees, setting Kat down beside her.

Lady held her front right leg up, and it dangled at an unnatural angle. She was silent and obviously terrified, with little tremors going through her body.

Sansa didn’t want to touch the leg, but something was seriously wrong. There was only one local vet surgery that she knew of, and Sandor or no Sandor, she’d have to take Lady there. The well-being of a family member  was far more important than her own feelings.

Sansa gathered Lady into her arms, groaning as she stood up with difficulty, holding the considerable weight of the dog.

“Okay, Kat,” she wheezed out, “you can walk with me while I carry Lady to Auntie Arya’s truck. Show me what a good big girl you are.”

Kat’s eyes went wide, and she looked between Lady and Sansa.

“No. Mumma, hup,” said Kat holding up her arms and wiggling her fingers.

Sansa frowned. “No, I can’t pick you up, sweetling. I have to carry Lady because she has a sore leg.”

“Hup, Mumma,” said Kat, more insistently, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Lady whined and tried to lick Sansa’s face.

Sansa gritted her teeth. “You can walk like a big girl, Catelyn Stark,” she said, with limited success at sounding cheerful. “Come on, show Mumma and Lady how you are so good at walking!”

Kat immediately flopped face down on leaf-covered ground of the grove and started to wail pitifully. In her arms, Lady shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, shit,” said Sansa with feeling, not even cringing at her own use of foul language.

She knelt, setting Lady back on the ground with a muttered apology, trying not to knock her dangling leg. She checked her phone, thinking to contact Davos or Stannis for assistance, since they should both be either in the Winterfell great hall or kitchens. The battery was at 1%, and the screen promptly turned black.

“ _Shit_ ,” she said again, more loudly.

Kat stopped her howling briefly when Sansa swore for the second time, then restarted with vigour.

Sansa felt like the worst parent in the world, but helping an injured animal was far more important than dealing with a tantrum.

Sansa eyed the back of Kat’s overalls, which had triple reinforced stitching around the straps and were the sturdiest item of clothing Sansa had ever seen. There were many things that might be said about Kat’s great uncle Tyrion, but one was undoubtedly that he had impeccable taste in female clothing.

She slipped her arm in behind the reinforced fabric, so that Kat dangled from her arm like a furious handbag. She wrapped her arms around Lady again, and stood up with difficulty, now lopsided with Kat’s weight.

Her knees were wobbling by the time they reached Arya’s truck, via a quick trip to her house to grab her purse and Kat’s travel bag, both of which she flung into a backpack before picking up her precious cargo again.

Sansa gently placed Lady onto a blanket in the rear of the truck and wrangled the now red-faced and flailing Kat into her carseat.

She leaned in to push the driver’s seat back. Sansa knew from experience that she wouldn’t be able to sit down with Arya’s seat settings.

She started the engine and had a quick hunt for Arya’s spare phone charger. No luck. She must have taken it away with her. She would just have to show up unannounced.

Kat grizzled all the way to the Winter town vet clinic, and Lady stayed quiet except for the occasional whine. Sansa had developed a headache. She would usually have stopped to try and settle Kat, but she couldn’t justify keeping Lady in pain to calm down her whinging child.

Luckily there was space to park right out of the front of the clinic.

Kat chose that moment to unleash her tiny rage. Her unholy screams must have been heard inside, because Sandor came bursting out of the building with Ygritte hot on his heals.

“What the fuck is going—” Sandor said sharply, and then he stopped cold when he saw Sansa.

Ygritte collided with the back of him, bounced off, and then resumed hurrying over to the truck after throwing a scowl in Sandor’s direction.

Sansa’s heart felt like it was planning on jumping out of her chest, and she swallowed heavily. “It’s Lady…” she stopped to clear her throat when her voice came out sounding husky. “She disappeared when we were in the Godswood and came back with a hurt leg.”

At the sight of Ygritte sticking her head into the interior of the truck, Kat immediately stopped screeching and gave a beaming smile.  

Sandor kept his gaze on Sansa as he, too, walked over to the truck. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, either. Seeing him again was both painful and glorious. She desperately wanted to touch him, run her fingers through his hair, cup both sides of his face, kiss him, hug him, say she wanted to tell everyone in Westeros that she was proud to be seen with him. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him.

The moment ended as he reached them and swung into action.

Sansa was frozen on the spot as Sandor briefly examined Lady, his touch calming the distressed animal. He murmured reassurances, far more gentle with the dog than she’d ever heard him be with people.

Except her and Kat, she realised a moment later with a pang of grief.

Ygritte had picked up Kat as Sansa stood uselessly beside the truck.

“Dodo help Dee?” asked the little girl, her eyes following Sandor’s every move.

Sandor looked briefly up at Kat. “Lady will be fine, Kitten,” he said gruffly as he scooped Lady into his arms. “Nothing to worry about.”

He carried Lady into the clinic without any further glances at Sansa.

Sansa watched Sandor’s retreating back. He carried the heavy dog with no apparent effort required. She was going to have to talk to him, but now the moment was here it seemed too big, too real. Once he had helped Lady, as she knew he would, he might reject her again and that would be it. No more ambiguity. She might have lost him completely.

Ygritte cleared her throat. “There’s a cake in the staff room that I’ve been hiding from Sandor. Why don’t we all go and have some while we wait to find out what’s going on with your dog?”

Sansa was certain anything she ate would taste like sawdust right now, but she appreciated the thought. She forced a smile. “Thank you for helping with Kat. Cake sounds like a lovely idea.”

She trailed behind Ygritte and a now cheerfully chattering Kat, heading into the clinic to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - injured animal


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay friends, this chapter gave me no end of trouble, but now I am releasing it into the wild! I'd love to hear what you think about it :-)
> 
> Also I've been working on another SanSan story to give myself a break from struggling with this chapter. It's just short (will be 4 chapters) and I've posted the first one:
> 
> [Search for the Shattered Star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21570004/chapters/51425416)

Sandor sat at the wheeled desk chair and tapped the computer screen with his finger. “The joint is shattered,” he said, indicating two small areas of white that lay separate to what was clearly Lady’s bone. “Those should be attached, but the way the muscles sit in that area is destabilising the injury, pulling the bone fragments up. It’s the type of injury we usually see when an animal has been hit by a car, but you said that can’t have been the case, so fuck knows what happened.”

Sansa squinted at the x-ray and took a slow breath. The sharp antiseptic smell of the treatment room was making her a little queasy.

She found it doable to be near Sandor when they were busy. Occupied with talking about Lady. Focused on a shared goal. And the fact that Tormund, Ygritte and Kat were also in the room stopped any awkward silences.

Sansa adjusted her hold on Kat and eyed the x-ray again. Worry over Lady wasn’t helping her queasiness either. “But you can fix her?”

Sandor frowned and sat back in his chair. “Aye, the injury is fixable, but not here. She’ll need to see a specialist. We can do basic surgery, but this requires a plate and screws to hold the bone together.”

“Alright, anything she needs.”

He opened up the browser on the computer and started to type. “The specialist is in Torrhen’s Square. I’ll phone her to let her know to expect us.”

“Torrhen’s Square?” Sansa said, dismayed at the thought of having to go so far.

“Well there’s another specialist up at the Dreadfort but that guy’s a cu…” Sandor paused and eyed Kat, who had rested her cheek on Sansa’s shoulder and was watching Sandor’s every move. “That guy’s a creep. I’d never send a woman to interact with the fu… with him.”

“The Dreadfort is further anyway,” Tormund interjected from where he was wrapping bandages around Lady’s leg. “Torrhen’s Square is only a three-hour drive.”

“Maybe three and a half for Sansa,” said Ygritte lightly, smiling at her and Kat.

Sansa thought about the dinner the following evening and grimaced. “That’s manageable. Whatever is best for Lady.” It was only mid-afternoon, enough time to get there and back today.

Ygritte passed Tormund another roll of gauze. “Do you want to leave the little one with me while you are gone?” she asked.

“Only if that would be no trouble,” said Sansa, hugging Kat closer.

Ygritte hummed. “Better that than hauling her across half the north.”

 “This is not the north,” said Tormund archly as he checked Lady’s IV line.

Ygritte rolled her eyes at him.

Sandor stood up. “I’ll phone the specialist then get my go-bag,” he said.

Sansa’s gaze cut back to him instantly. “You would be coming?” She tried to keep her voice even.

Sandor grimaced and glanced over at Tormund. “One of us has to stay with the dog because of the sedation.”

“And I have a date night with Brienne. I would not offend such a majestic goddess by cancelling our plans when Sandor is available to travel with you.”

Sansa nodded slowly, not making eye contact with Sandor. “Okay.”

The vets and Ygritte sprang into action at her acquiescence, and after a whirlwind of activity Lady’s crate got seatbelted into the backseat of Arya’s truck with Sandor and his go-bag installed beside her. Sansa kissed Kat goodbye and waved to her out of the window as the truck pulled away.

The fastest way to drive to Torrhen’s Square was via the Wolfswood highway, which had earned wide renown across the Seven Kingdoms for its stunning views of the ancient forest. Sansa hadn’t travelled along this road since she had moved to Kings Landing all those years ago. She might even have enjoyed the trip, if not for the awkward silence and her concern for her injured dog.

Sandor’s hulking form sat visible in the corner of her eye if she turned her head a little. She was hyperaware of him, noticing every time he moved to check on Lady. Even her own breathing seemed ridiculously loud in the quiet truck.

She tapped her fingers nervously on the steering wheel. This was neither the time nor the place for any kind of serious conversation, but she found herself stumped for neutral topics.

“You don’t mind me driving you?” she said abruptly, then cringed.

Joffrey had minded being driven by a woman. A lot. She really had to stop comparing the two men. Her relationship status with Sandor was complicated at best, and Joffrey was long gone from her life.

“Why the fuck would I mind if you drive me?” Sandor sounded surprised. “Even without the knowledge your little sister would likely geld me if she found out I’d driven her precious truck, I don’t care if a woman drives me anywhere.”

“Of course, sorry. It was just something I thought of.”

Another long silence descended upon the truck. Sansa tried to enjoy the scenery, with limited success.

She switched on the inbuilt stereo and promptly winced when a blast of what might charitably be called music blasted out of it. She turned it off again rapidly.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Arya’s music.”

Sandor grunted in response. Judging by the rattling of the crate he was checking on Lady.

Sandor was next to break the silence. “Fucking accommodation options are shit,” he muttered.

Sansa glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. He was hunched over his phone. “You want to stay overnight?” she said uncertainly.

“The pup will get the surgery today. I’d like to assist with it. By the time that’s finished it’ll be too late to drive back. Makes no fucking sense to drive through the night when you don’t know whether or not you’ll be able to take Lady home again tomorrow morning.”

Sansa thought for a moment. This was another piece of awkwardness she hadn’t considered in the rush to help Lady. It was bound to be expensive too. She already knew she’d have to spend all the money she’d managed to save whilst working as a tour guide on Lady’s surgery, after Ygritte had told her the usual costs for that kind of procedure. “I’m happy to sleep in the truck then.”

“That’s not fucking safe,” Sandor said sharply. “Torrhen’s Square is full of fuckwit tourist cunts, and it’s too fucking cold at night besides. I’ll find something.”

“It’s not only that, I’m not really…” She burned with embarrassment. “I’m not able to pay for a hotel on top of the surgery.”

Sandor made a snort of derision. “I’m not going to make you pay for accommodation. I can cover it.”

“Oh,” said Sansa in a small voice. “Well. Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Isn’t it school holidays?”

“Fuck. That’s why everything is booked out.”

He kept tapping on his phone and Sansa focused on driving. She had no spare clothes with her. It sounded like the plot of a trashy romance novel, forced to spend the night together and she had nothing to wear. She sighed.

“I found something on the lake front,” he said finally. “It’s near the specialists too. Looks like the last fucking room available in the town. It’s a double room but, well.” He paused. “I can sleep in the truck.”

Sansa checked her side mirrors and blind spot and moved into the lane for the turnoff to Torrhen’s Square. “You just said it wasn’t safe to sleep in the truck.”

Sandor made an affirmative noise. “It’s not safe for _you_ to sleep in the truck, Lit… Sansa. No one is going to fucking touch the truck if I’m in it.”

His almost but not quite use of his nickname for her felt like a stab to the heart. She wrestled herself under control. “It’s fine, we can share the hotel room. We’re both adults. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” To her shame, her voice cracked. The tension in the truck wasn’t doing anything good for her already fragile emotions.

Sandor huffed, then went quiet.

This was not how she expected her day to go. This was not how she expected talking to Sandor again to go.

Lady whined, finally stirring as the sedative wore off, and Sansa reminded herself that her family was her priority, not behaving like an idiot over a man.

The rest of the drive went quickly, with Sandor busy soothing Lady as she awoke and was obviously in pain.

Torrhen’s Square was a bustling tourist town, built on the edge of a lake. It was famous for both its adventure tourism and historical significance. Sansa remembered visiting the old seat of House Tallheart on a family trip as a child. Her dad had explained that House Tallheart had been one of the many houses sworn to her own family, many years ago. Their castle had never rivalled Winterfell, but must have still been impressive, though it sat in ruins now.

The town was packed with weekend traffic and the streets teemed with families. Sansa could see why Sandor had had trouble finding a place to stay.

After carefully navigating the narrow streets, she parked in the carpark of the Torrhen’s Square Specialist Veterinary Services. They walked inside the sleek and modern building. Huge, cheerfully hued portraits of a variety of animals hung on the walls of the currently empty reception and waiting room area. Sandor held the crate with Lady with no discernible effort, though Sansa’s arms ached remembering her weight.

An extraordinarily attractive woman came bounding up to them, her curly brown hair restrained in a ponytail and a big grin on her face.

“Sandor!” she exclaimed brightly. “Grandmother told me you were coming!”

Sandor carefully placed the crate on the ground, then gave a genuine smile and hugged the woman.

Sansa’s jaw dropped. She’d never seen Sandor touch anyone aside from herself and Kat. He barely even smiled at other people. This was… disconcerting. A frisson of jealousy shivered up her spine.

The woman turned to her and held out her hand. “You must be Lady’s mum, Sansa. I’m Margaery, one of the surgeons here.”

Sansa made her return smile as sincere as she could manage in that moment and she shook Margaery’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for seeing Lady.”

“No problem, we’ll fix up the poor girl.” Margaery’s voice was kind, and she seemed genuinely concerned for Lady. “If you could take a seat in the waiting room here while we get her settled, we’ll be back out soon.”

Sansa sat down underneath a portrait of a smiling cat painted in shades of blue, and watched Sandor stoically carry Lady out the back, with a chattering Margaery walking beside him.

Was Margaery a former girlfriend of Sandor’s?

Sansa let out a long breath.

That didn’t seem likely, upon reflection. She’d never forget Sandor’s confession that he’d only been involved with women from bars who wanted his body but not his face. She squeezed her eyes shut. That memory sparked a thought. Was it unfair of her to even have hurt feelings because of Sandor’s treatment of her, given how the world at large had regarded him because of his appearance?

She huffed. No, she deserved respect, regardless of Sandor’s sad background. There was no excuse for treating someone badly, even if there was a reason, and Sandor hadn’t even given her the courtesy of a conversation before he fled her bed.

Sansa shook herself, annoyed that she’d allow herself to consider disregarding her own feelings. Had she not learned anything from her disastrous time with Joffrey?

And apparently now she was the kind of person who also had uncharitable thoughts about Sandor being friends with a beautiful woman.

Sansa Stark was better than this. Sitting and wallowing wouldn’t help anyone.

A stack of magazines had been piled haphazardly at the end of the row of chairs where she sat. She selected a fashion magazine and flicked through it while she waited.

Margaery came into the waiting room after fifteen or so minutes, still talking to Sandor who was trailing behind her, nodding rather than speaking. Her ponytail bounced as she walked, and she gestured with her hands as she spoke.

“My grandmother is in surgery at the moment,” she said when they reached Sansa’s seat. “We’re going to phone Sandor when we’re about to operate on Lady.”

“We can go and get the key for the room.” Sandor’s voice sounded gruffer than usual.  

They bid Margaery farewell. The small and mean part of Sansa was glad there were no more hugs between the vets, but she hastily stifled that feeling.

The streets were as busy as when they arrived, but the accommodation that Sandor had booked was only a block or so away from the vets. It turned out to be a boutique hotel on the waterfront.

“So, were you and Margaery close in vet school?” Sansa said lightly, as they walked towards the office to check in. “She seemed very happy to see you.”

“We were just friends, if you are angling to know if we were fucking back then,” he said vehemently. “I used to help out when she got hassled by other men. Which happened all the fucking time. No way Margaery would ever want to fuck me. No woman who looked like that would ever…” his voice trailed off and he looked sideways at her.

Sansa was unsure if she should be more upset about the possible inference that Sandor thought her unattractive or that there was something wrong with her. “I wasn’t implying anything,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, “but it wouldn’t matter if you had been involved with her. That is your business, not mine.”

“I told you my entire fucking history with women,” he said shortly. “Someone like Margaery would be too fucking good for me.”

They’d reached the hotel reception, so Sansa followed him into the foyer. She had a small and perverse sense of satisfaction that she was out in public with Sandor. This would prove there was nothing to fear from them being seen together.

The young man staffing the desk looked wide eyed and horrified at Sandor, blinking rapidly. He glanced at Sansa, did a visible double take, and then back to Sandor with an expression of disbelief before outwardly composing himself.

Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. This was not helping her case at all.

Sandor made a sound of derision, then curtly gave the young man his name and details.

Keys in hand, they set off to their room, along the walkway skirting the lakefront to their part of the hotel. Sandor’s shoulders had hunched, and he was clearly annoyed by the reaction of the receptionist

“I don’t think there is such a thing as a person being too good for someone,” Sansa said quietly.

Sandor snorted. “I’m pretty fucking sure you were too good for that cunt you lived with in Kings Landing.”

Sansa hummed ruefully. “Perhaps it doesn’t count if one of the people is abusive towards the other. But someone like yourself, you have a lot going for you. Sandor, you are one of the best people I know.”

Sandor slowed his walk down considerably. He frowned at her. “You have fucking horrible taste in men.”

“Stop saying things like that,” Sansa said, her frustration finally bubbling over. “Just because I made one bad choice years ago doesn’t mean that I can’t be right about you now.”

“Well it fucking looks that way to me,” said Sandor, sneering at her.

Sansa had had enough. She rounded on him, forcing him to stop. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but you are completely wrong.”

“You can see what I look like.” Sandor waved his hand in front of the ruined half of his face. “Fucking disgusting. Everywhere I go people stare at me like that kid in the reception did. A big ugly cunt of a dog intruding on their day.”

“But not everyone thinks that,” she said, exasperated. “You are surrounded by people who don’t think those horrible things. Friends who don’t care what reactions you get from random people in the street because they know you, they lo… they like you.”

Sandor started walking again. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

Sansa followed him. “Yes, I do you stupid man,” she said furiously. She wanted to shake some sense into him. He was being deliberately bull-headed.

“No you fucking don’t,” Sandor said, scowling at her.

“You left me because you were too scared to hear me say how I felt about you, that I wanted to be with you. That I was proud to be seen with you, that I didn’t want to hide away.” Sansa was angrier than she could ever remember being.

Sandor winced. “That’s not…”

“If you don’t have feelings for me, tell me that and we can both move on. Don’t run away. Don’t blame the way you look. Don’t use random strangers as an excuse.”

“I left that night because you deserve better than me,” he said stubbornly.

Sansa refrained from raising her voice, but she had to grit her teeth to do so. “Surely,” she hissed, “I should get some say in what I deserve? What I want?”

They’d reached the door to their room, and he leaned his forehead against it.

“Look, I am fucking sorry. Really fucking sorry. I fucked everything up, and I treated you like shit.” His voice broke on the last word. Sansa could see the side of his face and he looked tortured and upset.

His fists clenched, and he shut his eyes, clearly trying to calm himself down.

Her heart hurt.

He’d apologised, but nothing had magically changed by his acknowledgement of his mistake.

She still loved him, even if that was too difficult for Sandor to understand.

But…

Maybe this was a start.

Sansa took a step towards him. She carefully took his hand, unfurled his fingers and squeezed it. He returned the squeeze, and threaded his fingers with hers. He looked down at their joined hands, then at her face.

The phone in his pocket started ringing. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said with passion.

Sansa agreed.

“It’s Margaery,” he said before standing up straight and answering.

Sansa watched the lake as he took the call. She itched to wrap her arms around him, but they were on shaky ground still.

“It’s Lady,” he said when he’d finished the call. “They are going to start the op when I get there.”

“Okay. Do you want me to drop you off?”

Sandor passed her the hotel keys, his fingers brushing hers. “Nah, it’s almost as quick to walk.”

“I’ll take your bag in to the room then.” Awkwardness had quickly descended after their discussion was so abruptly stopped, the moment they almost had shattered by reality.

“There’s a phone charger in there,” Sandor said, “and a shirt if you want a change of clothes to sleep in. There’s room service if you are hungry too, they’ll just put it on my card.”

Sansa nodded. They looked at each other. “Good luck with the operation. Could you let me know how she is as soon as you’ve finished?”

Sandor nodded. “Aye, I will.”

“Well. Okay, bye.” She regarded him for a moment, then stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss on his lips.

He returned the kiss chastely, then touched her cheek before turning and striding off towards the specialist centre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suspect your opinion on whether or not a 3 hour drive is a long way will very much depend on where you are from! 
> 
> (In Australia that's very much not a long drive, but my Scottish husband thought that it was!)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy festive season to all those who celebrate their festive season in December! Christmas is my absolute favourite time of year (someone please remind me of that after I spend the next few days in the kitchen getting everything ready for our family Christmas lunch 😂)
> 
> My kids are on their summer school holidays so I’m very busy doing family stuff, but as usual will write as free time permits! I actually had the thought of writing a one-shot and publishing it on my birthday (31 December) as a present for all my lovely readers – so if any of you had any ideas for a short story you’d want to read as written by me (SanSan or any other GoT) I’d love to hear them. Either here in the comments or on my Tumblr OrangeTabbyWrites. No guarantees, of course, but I’m a bit crap at coming up with story ideas so it would be helpful to hear yours!

Sansa shut her eyes and let the hot water spray hit her face. She’d been on autopilot since she and Sandor parted with the ghost of a kiss and it was a relief to at least attempt to relax. The pressure of the water was firm, and she angled her head so it massaged her scalp.

Through the steamed-up glass of the shower cubicle her underwear, bra and top were visible, hanging on the heated towel rail to dry after a thorough wash in the bathroom sink.

Sansa had plugged her phone into the charger, sitting on the bedside table. The bed itself, she’d noted, was large and comfortable. The idea of that level of proximity with Sandor was both daunting and desperately appealing.

She shelved that thought as unhelpful. She’d deal with that situation when the time came. Of more immediate concern was the fact that her phone hadn’t immediately switched back on.

She needed to phone Ygritte to check on Kat, not to mention the fresh produce suppliers to check on the rocket for tomorrow’s dinner. She had probably missed endless messages from Stannis. Sandor might have phoned to update her if they had finished Lady’s operation.

Her mother would doubtless have scolded her for being too reliant on technology.

She’d found clean clothing to wear, though going through Sandor’s bag had been uncomfortably intimate. He had spare sets of work clothes and exercise clothes in there, along with a phone charger and some toiletries. Sansa purloined his exercise shirt, which was gigantic, black, and had “Brotherhood without Banners: Riverlands Band Tour” emblazoned across the front.

She’d ordered a chicken salad from room service, due in thirty minutes or so. She’d even guiltily included a miniature lemon cake for dessert, feeling like she was stretching Sandor’s generosity by ordering more than the bare minimum. Sansa could almost hear his voice telling her to f-word order whatever she f-word wanted if she’d expressed that sentiment to him.

Sansa examined the shampoo and conditioner that the hotel had supplied. They both smelled faintly of apples, which reminded her of Kat and made her smile. She poured the entire contents in the small shampoo bottle into her palm, hoping that would be a sufficient quantity for her long hair. She took a deep breath of the steamy air and washed the day’s grime out of her hair.

Now, here in the shower, she finally had time to think.

Was she weak to still want Sandor? Was his apology enough?

She’d told him it was for her to decide her own feelings and desires, that he couldn’t make those decisions for her.

She massaged the lather into her scalp, keeping her head well tipped back.

Was she making bad decisions though? Had Joffrey skewed her view on relationships so much that she’d defaulted to making the same choices again?

She shook her head, then winced as the lather got into her ear. This situation didn’t feel the same. Sandor would never be violent with her, of that she was certain, and she didn’t believe he was trying to be deliberately cruel to her. She stuck her head under the jets of water to rinse out the shampoo.

It must have been difficult for Sandor to even say as much as he did. He behaved like someone backed into a corner, lashing out with fear. That didn’t mean he could treat her badly, but as much as she was able, she understood why he would be in emotional pain.

She couldn’t imagine what it must be like having people turn from you in fear or disgust over something as fundamental as the way your face looked.

She’d never considered she wouldn’t ever be able to have a relationship, nor assumed she’d inevitably spend her life alone.

But Sandor had those basic expectations about himself.

Sansa had chosen to date boys before Joffrey. She’d chosen to have a serious relationship with him, and she’d chosen to focus on Kat after that ended. Those choices had been available to her. It never occurred to her that anyone would ever find her physically repulsive, that they would reject or mistreat her because of the way she looked. She had no concept of what that would be like, the damage that must do.

Sansa rubbed the conditioner through her hair, paying careful attention to the ends.

Was she justifying Sandor’s bad behaviour?

Something that had started out as purely physical had crept into her heart and soul. She wanted to feel his rough hands on her skin again, hear his rasping voice telling her about his day, watch him taking up most of the room in her kitchen as he made them both cups of tea. She wanted to laugh as he snuck Kat bits of chocolate.

No easy answers presented themselves. Life was not a song. Sansa leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Relationships were complicated.

She rinsed out the conditioner. It was a shame the water pressure in the old Winterfell pipes was so poor. She could get used to this kind of shower.

She sighed and got out of the shower, wincing a little at the chilled air in the bathroom, even with the steam.

Sandor’s t-shirt smelled like him, because of course it did, which did nothing to help her inner turmoil. Wearing his clothing with no underwear didn’t help much either. Considering their situation would be far easier without the prospect of spending the night with him.

She shelved where those thoughts were going and went to check on her phone again.

Still plugged into the charger. Still not working.

“Seven hells,” she swore under her breath.

She didn’t much fancy going to the hotel reception again wearing Sandor’s clothing and no underwear. Besides, she didn’t remember anyone’s number without her list of contacts.

At least she could call Ygritte from Sandor’s phone when he got back, something that seemed more urgent that chasing up rocket supplies at that point in time.

Anxiety skittered like an unwelcome spider along the edge of her consciousness, so Sansa sat down and watch television while she waited for dinner to arrive. She wrapped her lower half in a blanket first, she didn’t want to flash the hotel staff. Sandor on the other hand…

She gritted her teeth. She needed to talk to Sandor, not imagine ways in which they might end up having sex again.

One channel was hosting an Aemon Targaryen nature documentary special event, which Sansa gathered was all his documentaries played back to back. She imagined that would take a while, since he had reached a venerable old age and had been making documentaries for decades. The current programme was a study of wildlife on the coastline of the Red Waste.

She settled in to watch the show, making herself a comfy nest on the couch.

Dinner arrived, delivered by a smiling young woman, the delicious aroma of fresh food prompting Sansa to realise just how hungry she was. She thanked the staff member and sat down with her food. The servings were generous, and the salad contained warm chicken, croutons and a variety of vegetables and fruit nestled amongst the shredded leaves.

“Nicely seasoned chicken,” she said to Aemon Targaryen, who sat perched on a clifftop beside some giant Valyrian albatrosses. She waved her fork at him. “You should try these garlic croutons too.”

She chuckled a little at the thought that emotional turmoil was making her unhinged enough to converse with television personalities.

She popped a blueberry into her mouth and hummed with pleasure.

Feeling pleasantly full of salad and the subsequent lemon cake and lulled by Aemon Targaryen’s dulcet tones, she curled up on the couch and fell asleep.

She awoke to Sandor trying and failing to fit himself on the couch with her. She moved her feet so he could sit.

“How’s Lady?” she said, groggy with sleep.

“Tried to ring you,” he said, rummaging around in the large paper bag he held. Sansa smelled basil emanating from it. “Operation was a success. Had to take out the bone fragments so she’ll get arthritis in the joint when she’s older, but the plate and the pins on the bone look good.”

“That’s a relief.” Sansa yawned and stretched. “My phone died. Can I borrow yours to ring Ygritte?”

Sandor grunted an assent, unlocked the mobile with his thumb and handed it to her.

Kat and Ygritte were partying hard back in Winter town. Apparently they’d played with the dogs at the shelter with Pod, made chocolate cupcakes at Hot Pie’s house and were now having a mini disco at Ygritte’s house.

“At least Kat will sleep well,” said Sansa after ending the call, eyeing the bowl of pasta that Sandor was now consuming. “Though Ygritte’s more fun than me.” She kept her voice light. “Kat won’t want to come home.”

“You’re a good fucking mother,” said Sandor, offering her the bowl. “Kitten loves you.”

“I know, I’m just being silly.” Sansa took a mouthful of the thin pasta noodles and narrowed her eyes. “This is delicious.”

Sandor took the bowl back. “There was a Braavosi restaurant on the way back, so I went there. There are some top-quality fucking olives and olive oil on this. Decent amount of the fresh chilli and basil too.”

Sansa leaned forward and stole an olive from his bowl before wiggling back under her nest of blankets. She had been showing quite a lot of leg when she’d been sleeping and wasn’t sure how much of an eyeful Sandor had gotten.

She considered her next words with care. “You’re okay with going out to places like that?”

“You mean will I care if they stare at the freak?” Sandor said sharply.

Sansa scowled at him. “You are not a freak.”

Sandor grunted and ostentatiously focused on swirling a forkful of pasta in the bowl. “I don’t give a fuck what people think of me. I care if… people… get shit for being seen with me.”

“And if that person doesn’t care about the behaviour of random strangers?” Sansa regarded him levelly.

Sandor ate a mouthful of his dinner, staring at the new documentary before answering her. “Do you want me to say I’m fucking sorry again?” he said eventually, calmer than before. “That I was a shit? Because I fucking was. A craven fucking piece of shit.”

Sansa fiddled with a corner of a blanket. “Joffrey used to apologise sometimes. After he’d hurt me. Not every time, sometimes he said I shouldn’t talk back to him and that I deserved it. But sometimes he’d say sorry. Nothing would ever change though.”

Sandor gave her a long look. “You deserve someone who can give you the fucking world. Not someone who is fucked up,” he said quietly, then resumed eating his dinner.

Sansa focused on the documentary, unsure what to say in response. Aemon Targaryen frolicked in the snow with a pack of wolves near Last Hearth. She smiled at that, reminded of Arya. She hoped she and Gendry were having an enjoyable time away.

Sandor finished his dinner, silently offering her the last olive. She hummed a thank you and took it.

Sandor looked down at his hands, then at her face. “Do you want to go out with me?” he said abruptly.

Sansa blinked. “Go out with you?” she repeated stupidly.

“I saw an ice cream shop that’s open late,” he said, his posture stiff. “About a block away. I thought of you when I was walking past it.”

Sansa let out a long breath. “Yes,” she breathed. “Oh yes.”

He licked his lips and nodded, then eyed her. “You probably shouldn’t go out bare arsed.” His voice sounded wry. “Might attract the wrong kind of attention.”

So he had noticed.

She’d have to go out wearing her jeans without underwear and Sandor’s giant t-shirt without a bra. But the thought of Sandor wanting to go out in public with her bought a lump to her throat. “I can take care of that.”

As far as she could tell Sandor refrained from ogling her as she stood up to retrieve her jeans. She knotted the bottom of Sandor’s top so it looked more like a huge tee and less like a dress. She also sent a mental apology to the spirit of her mother for wearing her jeans without underpants. Sandor produced a sweatshirt from his gym bag and passed it to her. She huffed a laugh and put it on. The sleeves dangled well over her hands.

She held them up to show Sandor. “At least my hands will stay warm.”

The streets of Torrhen’s Square were busy even though it was mid evening. Most of the shops were still open too. It reminded Sansa of the night spots of Kings Landing, though the people here looked like tourists rather than young locals looking to party.

They got plenty of looks from people. Sandor looked wary of the reactions, but not upset or surprised.  Sansa wiggled one hand free of the sleeve and grasped Sandor’s. He glanced at her, then slid his fingers in between hers.

Sansa let out a sigh of relief.

She recalled last time they had held hands, on their way to her bedroom. How she’d loved the tiny intimacy. A jolt of sadness hit her, combined with profound arousal at her recollection of those events.

Regardless of her confusion over their situation, one thing was certain. She still wanted to strip him naked and have her wicked way with him. Repeatedly.

‘A Song of Ice Cream and Fire’ was a boutique ice cream parlour with an historical tavern theme. A large open fire sat at one end of the area, though Sansa noted with relief for Sandor’s sake that it was fake. There were chunky wooden tables with benches scattered around the room, and a young man with a lute stood near the artificial fire singing folk songs.

Sandor picked the Stormlands stout flavoured ice cream. Sansa choose the lemon meringue flavour with flaked chocolate.

“What does beer flavoured ice cream taste like?” Sansa hummed with pleasure as she took a mouthful of her ice cream after speaking.

Sandor was watching her mouth. His eyes looked dark. “Tastes like beer,” he said, “but creamy. It’s actually not fucking bad.”

They chatted easily as they ate dessert, the world narrowing down to the two of them. Just doing something as normal as sitting somewhere out in public was a joy to Sansa.

They held hands again on the way home, and they walked via the lake front so they could enjoy the reflection of the stars on the water. It was colder walking this way, and Sansa shivered. Sandor let go of her hand and put his arm around her to share his warmth. She should have remembered from last time that not wearing a bra could be very distracting. Arousal made her head spin.

They were almost back to their room when Sansa pulled him in for a kiss.

He rested one hand on the back of her neck and one on the small of her back. She cupped his face in both her hands, holding him close.

They stumbled inside the room, barely breaking their kiss as they did so. Sansa pulled away from him long enough to pull her clothing off while Sandor did the same. She didn’t want to endlessly think any more, she just wanted to be close to him. When they were bare, she pressed herself against him again. He was hot and hard against her stomach and she moaned impatiently into his mouth.

There was a small desk positioned just beside the door, and Sansa spun around in Sandor’s arms, then stepped away from him. She shoved aside the desk chair and bent over the desk. She heard Sandor’s breath catch and she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Here,” she said, her voice husky. “Now. Please.”

Her words spurred him to move. “Always so fucking polite,” he murmured, stepping forward and sliding his fingers into her wetness.

Sansa groaned and arched her hips towards him. “I need all of you,” she whispered, so desperately aroused that she forgot to be embarrassed for demanding sex.

He pulled his fingers out and used that hand to steady his manhood as he slid into her. Sansa dropped her forehead onto her bent arms and sighed with relief.

It felt like an eternity since they’d been together like this. Regardless of her turmoil of emotions she’d missed the fullness and heat of him inside her. She wanted to enjoy this sensation while feeling safe in his arms, not while having to worry her words might cause him to reject her again. They’d made progress, and a start, but they weren’t there yet.

“You still with me, Little Bird?” asked Sandor, pressing himself deep inside of her.

Sansa moaned in response, pulling her attention back to what they were doing. “Harder,” she said. “Faster.”

Sandor grunted and complied, grasping her hips in a bruising grip.

The desk banged rhythmically against the wall and Sansa had to put a hand out to brace herself against the wall to take the pressure off the flimsy furniture. She moaned with each thrust, too overcome to care who might hear her.

She growled indignantly when Sandor abruptly pulled out of her.

He dropped to his knees behind her. “I’m going to fucking come if I keep that up,” he said, and his breath tickled her centre.

She whined and tried to press herself further towards his mouth.

He huffed a laugh, another tickle, before starting to lick her the way she loved.

He didn’t tease or explore her, he focused solely on making her peak, flicking over her swollen clit.

It felt like no time at all before her legs were shaking and he was licking her through her orgasm.

She sagged, both arms back on the desk as he stood up and sheathed himself back in her.

Sandor restarted his punishing pace and Sansa relaxed into it, letting him pound his way to his own climax. He groaned more loudly than usual when he finally came, in response to her whispered encouragements.

He pulled her back onto the bed when he was done, pulling her into an embrace.

Sansa trailed her fingers through his chest hair like she always enjoyed doing. She wished she knew what to say now. That last time they’d been in this position was when Sandor had stormed out.

“I’m a cunt,” Sandor said.

Sansa raised her head and looked at him.

“This is different. Here like this with you. I’ve fucked it up,” he continued. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You apologised,” Sansa said slowly, resting her head back on his upper arm. “But I need time to believe that you won’t treat me like that again.”

Sandor let out a long breath. “Can I go to your charity dinner, tomorrow?”

Sansa frowned. “I can organise a ticket, but are you sure? I don’t want you to do something you are uncomfortable with, just to prove something to me.”

“If you insist you don’t mind being seen with an ugly fucker, then I don’t mind going.”

Sansa sat up enough so she could kiss Sandor’s burned cheek. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ll get you a ticket.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First post of 2020! I hope you enjoy 😊
> 
> FYI I went back and made a very small edit in ch 23 because Arya’s love of symposia hadn’t copied and pasted properly to the version I published.

“Bad Pussy,” said Sandor, rifling through the glovebox of Arya’s truck.

Sansa flicked her gaze towards Sandor for a second before looking back at the road. The Wolfswood highway was fairly empty at mid-morning on a Saturday, but she didn’t want to take any risks. “Excuse me?”

“Your sister has some old CDs in here. Including Bad Pussy.” He pulled out the disk in question. “’Poisoned Kisses’,” he read the title of the album from the cover of the case. “Fuck, I’d forgotten Tyrene Sand was in this clusterfuck of a group.”

“Oh, I saw her recently in _The Prince Groom_. She’s very beautiful.” Memories of Sandor’s rejection of her resurfaced with the recollection of watching the movie with her friends. Even with him here, even with the intense night they just experienced together, it still stung. Sansa took a slow breath to refocus herself. “I’d forgotten that Arya went through a Dornish girl punk phase.”

“Not sure if it’s better or worse than that Braavosi shit she likes now.”

“Braavosi New Wave Progressive Funk,” said Sansa, smiling as she remembered the music choices from the very long drive from Kings Landing to Winterfell with Kat and Arya.

“That’s the one. Just fucking noise.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t awkward like the drive to Torrhen’s Square had been. Sansa could enjoy the scenery and company more now. She loved the ancient forests of the North, and as a child she’d imagined her ancestors keeping these lands safe for thousands of years.

“How is Lady doing?” Sansa asked eventually.

Sandor twisted so he could see the backseat. “Still asleep,” he said. “She’ll probably sleep most of the day from the pain meds.”

She’d been permitted to take Lady home so long as the dog stayed at Sandor’s practice for a few more days to recover. Interacting with both Tyrell women had been an… interesting experience.

“Well, young man,” Olenna had said to Sandor when they’d gone to the clinic to check on Lady early in the morning. “Didn’t get much sleep, did you? I’ve known men with that look in their eye. Not for many years mind, but oh there were a few in my day.”

Sandor had rolled his eyes then ostentatiously began checking Lady’s sutures.

“I’ve always assumed he’s big all over, dear.” Olenna had swung her gimlet eye towards Sansa, who was trying to stand inconspicuously beside a box of bandages. “Well done. You look exhausted, lucky thing.”

“Um,” Sansa had replied, rapidly running through a list of potential polite responses.

“Remember the sexual harassment in the workplace seminar we had to attend, Grandmother?” Margaery had delicately interjected.

“Oh that piffle. I’m far too old to bother with false political correctness.”

Sansa snorted a laugh at the memory of the elderly woman, who was sharp and spry despite her age.

“You’re thinking about Margaery’s fucking grandmother again, aren’t you?” said Sandor.

“I was. She’s a remarkable woman. Have you had much to do with her?”

“Met her a few times when I was training. She liked that I helped out her precious granddaughter while her grandsons were off fucking around. Well not Willas, he didn’t talk much, so he was tolerable. Shame about his fucked-up leg though. Garlan’s a pretty boy cunt. Loras is a twat. You know he’s married to Stannis’s little brother?”

“Really? Small world. I wonder if they’ll be there tonight.”

Sandor made a neutral hum.

“That reminds me,” she continued, “I never said thank you properly for the deal with the vet bill.”

The Tyrells had done Lady’s operation at cost, which resulted in a fee that was half what she’d expected to pay. Still expensive, but it meant Sansa still had some savings. Sandor had agreed to collaborate on some future projects with them in exchange for the reduced bill.

“I’ll remind you of that when I’m too busy peer reviewing articles for them to ever fuck you,” he said lightly.

“I think we could probably still find time for that.” Sansa pulled into a rest area as she spoke. It sat in a small clearing just off the road, with public toilets, covered barbeques with adjacent picnic tables and some signs with historical information about the area. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll only be a minute.”

She used the facilities, which were meticulously clean and tidy thanks to strict laws in the North to encourage tourism.

Sandor had the back door to Arya’s truck open as she came out and was checking on Lady.

“She’s fine,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Long acting pain meds still working.”

As Sansa hopped in the drivers seat, she couldn’t supress a small groan at the tenderness as she sat down. Vivid memories from waking up in Sandor’s arms several times during the night flooded her mind. Each time resulted in more intimate activities. Energetic intimate activities. No wonder Olenna had taken one look at them and guessed what they’d been doing.

“Sore from when I fucked you into the mattress?” said Sandor, smirking as he swung himself into his seat with surprising grace.

“No,” she lied primly.

Sandor gave a short laugh. “I want you remembering my cock when you are at the Winterfell dinner tonight.”

Sansa was saved from having to answer that by Sandor’s phone ringing as they pulled back out onto the highway.

“It’s your sister,” he said, looking at the screen. “She’s probably worked out your phone is fucked if she’s calling me.”

He answered the call, then turned it onto the speaker mode.

“Wolf Girl,” he said by way of greeting.

“…dor,” said Arya, “Sa… there? …need …th.”

“Fucking reception is half a bar,” Sandor said to Sansa. “There is bugger-all reception,” he said into the phone. “Send a text message.”

“…n’t. …ansa?” Arya’s voice crackled though.

“I’m here,” said Sansa loudly.

“…onight.” There was a long crackling pause. “…uking cun…” and the phone call went dead.

Sandor sighed. “Typical fucking North. Anyone can take a shit in sterile public toilets in the middle of nowhere, but the phone reception is fucked.”

Sansa frowned and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, worried why Arya would interrupt her beloved symposium to phone her and/or Sandor. “She wouldn’t call unless something was wrong.”

“Phone her when we get closer to town. No point fretting about it, Little Bird.”

“But what if she was calling about Kat?”

Sandor shook his head. “Ygritte would call if something happened with your Kitten. Or Tormund would get hold of us, he fucking loves kids. Seven hells, even that hopeless cunt Hot Pie would figure out to contact me if your phone didn’t work. We would find out before your sister, everything is fine.”

Sansa frowned, but nodded. “Yes, you are right.”

Arya’s phone went straight to voice mail when Sandor tried to call her back once they were out of the Wolfswood and closer to home. He managed to contact Ygritte after his attempts with Arya failed.  Sansa spoke to Kat, who was busy having a tea party with Tormund and Brienne. Toddler phone communication generally involved Kat breathing heavily into the phone and whisper shouting “HI MUMMA”, but Sansa was relieved to hear her voice. Sandor also found the number for the Winterfell reception, so she spoke to Sam, who assured her that all the produce had arrived safely. Stannis was apparently panicking over the unexpectedly increased guest numbers he’d been informed about, rather than the food. Sam promised to sneak Sandor onto the guest list without telling Stannis and stressing him further.

By the time they arrived at the clinic in Winter town, Kat and Ygritte were manning the reception desk.

Kat held up a dragon-shaped cookie dripping with black icing. “Rog, Mumma. Rog, Dodo. Look. LOOK!”

Sansa smiled at her. “Yes it does look like Drogon. Very, um, large and black.”

Ygritte passed a sticky Kat over the desk like a parcel and Sansa gathered her daughter into her arms, hugging and kissing her.

“I’m going to take the pup out the back,” said Sandor, who had been effortlessly holding Lady.

“Pod came in today, when he heard you were bringing Lady back with you,” said Ygritte.

“Aye, I thought he might.”

Sansa and Kat followed Sandor out the back of the clinic to the shelter, and they got Lady situated in a crate. Both Stranger and Marigold were sitting in that building’s staffroom, and Sandor’s dog was curled protectively around four kittens. Sandor and Pod went to examine Lady more thoroughly while Sansa and Kat stayed with the other animals.

Kat wiggled and Sansa put her down so she could pat the animals.

“Remember, gentle hands,” said Sansa as she crouched beside them.

“Dentle hands,” repeated Kat, carefully patting Stranger first.

Stranger chirped at the attention, then stood up and nudged Kat. He was so large that he knocked her back to sit on her bottom. The little girl giggled and tenderly patted the fluffy black cat again.

Sansa sat on the floor too and held out her hand for Marigold to sniff. The striking auburn dog sniffed, started to wag her tail and pushed her snout into Sansa’s hand.

“Oh you are a friendly girl,” Sansa said, patting Marigold’s neck and shoulders.

The kittens had awoken by then and were meeping for attention. A ginger boy scrambled up and over Marigold, and Sansa picked him up for a cuddle.

“DENTLE HANDS,” announced Kat, turning her attention to delicately patting Sansa’s kitten.

Sandor soon joined them, crouching down to greet Marigold and the three kittens who were now perched on her. “Not long ago she was too scared to eat or leave her cage,” he said, patting Marigold vigorously then wincing as a little black and tan tabby kitten scaled the back of his shirt, climbing up his body.

“Dentle hands Dodo,” said Kat sternly.

Sansa kissed the soft furry orange forehead of her kitten, then spoke to her daughter. “He is using his gentle hands, Kat.”

Sandor lifted the tabby off his shoulder and held it out towards Kat, perched on his big hands. Sansa’s heart melted to see him being so tender.

“I think I’d rather stay here than go to the charity dinner,” she said.

Sandor hummed and held the kitten so it could sniff Kat’s hair. The little girl squealed with glee. “I won’t tell Stannis where you are if you want a refuge,” he said.

Sansa laughed. “That is tempting, but I need to go and help set everything up. Shireen will probably be there already, and I know Kat will have fun with her.”

Sandor sat back on the floor properly for Marigold to clamber on his lap. She was a big dog and struggled for room. “What time do you need me there?”

“Six-thirty.” Sansa cradled the orange kitten in one arm and patted Stranger with her free hand. He flopped on the ground and rolled over to show his luxuriously fluffy belly. “That’s a trap,” she said to the big cat, who stretched and yawned in apparent unconcern. She looked back at Sandor. “Do you have black tie?”

“Aye.” Sandor now had his hands full with Kat attempting to join Marigold. “Had to buy my own because nothing ever fit me from the rental places.”

Sansa was momentarily distracted imaging Sandor in a tuxedo whilst he was holding her child. “Okay, we’ll see you there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's all get momentarily distracted by imagining Sandor in a tuxedo! 😁


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Just a couple of warnings for this chapter, there are mentions of homophobia and a homophobic slur is used. There are also mentions of past domestic violence.

Shireen and a gaggle of young children were all dancing enthusiastically to _Dany and the Sparkle Dragons’_ latest hit when Sansa and Kat arrived at the Winterfell Charity dinner. Davos’s office had been commandeered to be a creche for the event, and Shireen had done a thorough job of making it child friendly. Large overstuffed cushions lined the walls and helium balloons bobbed cheerfully over the heads of the children. She’d also turned Davos’s elderly work computer into a multimedia entertainment device for the evening. Not for the first time Sansa marvelled at the young woman’s organisational skills.

‘Rhaegal and the Mashed Banana Boogie’ was as catchy as Dany’s songs generally were and Kat wiggled frantically in Sansa’s arms to be set down.

Her beautifully dressed daughter, when given her freedom, screamed “DENTLE HANDS,” and launched herself at little Sam Tarly in a flurry of red taffeta and ribbons.

Sansa winced, waiting for the inevitable head clash and subsequent tears, but little Sam managed to fend Kat off without even disturbing his bowtie, and then return her embrace. They both resumed dancing to the song, flailing wildly when the chorus sounded.

“Good luck,” Sansa said to Shireen, who had danced her way over and was already looking frazzled but cheerful.

“And to you,” replied Shireen. “Watch out for Dad, he’s one overcooked oyster hors d'oeuvre away from a meltdown. Uncle Robert coming tonight doesn’t help either. He’s even been making Davos edgy and Davos is usually really chill.”

“Yes, I saw them briefly on our way in. Stannis looked… hmm. Fingers crossed the evening goes smoothly.”

Sansa pried Kat away from dancing long enough to kiss her and then headed back to the main hall, with the jaunty strains of ‘Rhaegal and the Mashed Banana Boogie’ echoing in her ears.

She took long slow breaths as she walked. Large gatherings of people weren’t particularly good for her anxiety, but being in a familiar space helped immensely. Knowing people helped too. Adult Sam Tarly and Gilly were already here, but Brienne and Tormund were supposed to come too. And Sandor of course. She still couldn’t quite believe he was coming tonight. Had voluntarily asked if he could come.

She paused a moment and allowed herself the fantasy of what he would look like in formal clothing.

Sansa had worn one of her old cocktail dresses from her time in Kings Landing, a midi length navy blue A-line dress with a boat neck. It swished pleasingly as she walked. Years ago she’d sewn tiny sparkly beads in swirls all over it and she’d happily included it in the items she kept from her old home. She’d left everything behind that Joffrey had bought her, but this dress she’d purchased for herself and it was beautiful.

Even with still reeling from the emotional events of the past couple of days it had been nice to dress up and put makeup on and style her hair. She’d left it loose in the traditional northern fashion.

Stannis and Davos were just outside the staff entrance, having a heated discussion.

“…extra press coverage is only worth it if everything goes perfectly.” Stannis was saying in a whisper shout.

Davos put a soothing hand on his husband’s shoulder. “He’ll behave himself, love,” he said. “Being seen at this kind of event is important to him. You know how politicians are. Just think of all that extra funding.”

“Is everything okay?” asked Sansa cautiously, stopping beside the two men.

“My brother Robert and his entourage are early. Of course they are.” Stannis looked over to the public entrance and then shut his eyes. “More time to press the flesh and campaign for votes up North I suppose.”

Sansa followed where his gaze had settled.

Who she saw sent a cold jab of horror down her spine.

He hadn’t changed in all the months since Sansa had seen him last. It felt like he should have because so much had happened for her between then and now she was a different person. She had found her strength, bought her daughter home to Winterfell, to safety and her family. Met a man and fallen in love, as messy and complicated as that situation was. Made a life, a good life, so different to how things were with him.

And now there he was, same as always, as if no time had passed at all.

Joffrey.   

She breathed out slowly, her anxiety rising at the sight of her former boyfriend.

The last thing she needed was a panic attack.

Sansa forced herself to access the situation, calming herself by cataloguing who Joffrey was with.

A large man with black hair, bearing a strong resemblance to Gendry of all people, had his arm around Joffrey and was chatting to a gaggle of reporters. She vaguely recognised the man from seeing him in news stories. Senator Robert Baratheon.

Cameras and journalists surrounded them, apparently conducting an impromptu press conference in the main entrance to the great hall. They blocked much of the way in.

Sansa recognised Petyr Baelish and some others who worked for the Lannister family security. There was one she’d always found creepy, but couldn’t quite recall his name. Trent, maybe?

Sansa wasn’t sure how long she stared at them for, but she realised there was a roaring in her ears that only stopped when Davos gently laid a hand on her arm.

“You alright lass?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Robert tends to have that effect on women,” said Stannis darkly. “He’s always been a charmer.”

“No,” Sansa rasped, then coughed and tried again. “No, that’s my ex-boyfriend. Joffrey. He’s… he’s Kat’s father. He wasn’t kind. I mean, he didn’t treat…”

She stopped, unable to admit the shame of Joffrey’s behaviour towards her.

“Why is he here?” she whispered.

The men looked at her curiously and then exchanged a glance.

“He’s Robert’s estranged son,” said Stannis. “Hasn’t seen him for fucking years. Apparently Joffrey has to play in important part in our family political dynasty since our other brother Renly and I are fags and therefore Robert considers us unacceptable for public office.” He sounded bitter.

Davos squeezed his husband’s arm. “Fuck him and fuck everyone like him,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what they think.”

Sansa took a deep breath. She was strong and she was not going to fall apart in front of Stannis and Davos. She hadn’t known they’d gotten any grief from Stannis’s family about their relationship and her heart hurt for them. It helped put her own pain in perspective.

“So Joffrey is here for a political campaign?” she said, proud of her voice for not wavering.

“Everything is politics with Robert,” Stannis said bitterly.

“Joffrey is not…” Sansa swallowed. “Joffrey is not a good man.”

Stannis snorted. “I knew Joffrey as a child before Robert became estranged from Cersei. I banned the little shit from my house after my ex-wife caught him hurting our dog.”

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes. That’s the kind of man he grew up to be.”

Stannis nodded slowly and Sansa felt guilty at being so vague, afraid that the men would accuse her of being hysterical about a former partner for no good reason.

The memory of Kat happily dancing came to mind, her little face smiling as Sansa kissed her goodbye just minutes ago.

Sansa stuck her chin out. Guilty and shameful was not what this situation was. She had nothing to be ashamed of, she hadn’t asked Joffrey to intrude on her home.

“He was violent,” she admitted finally, without emotion. “He hurt me, and I was worried he’d start hurting Kat, so I left.”

Sansa had never seen Davos look angry, but he looked furious at that moment. “We can’t have someone like that here, regardless of the publicity Robert and Joffrey are generating. We cannot be condoning a woman beater.” He frowned at Stannis. “Regardless of you being willing to overlook Robert’s past behaviour.”

“I agree, but Robert is going to be a fucking nightmare to get rid of,” said Stannis, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Especially with that idiot Baelish with him.”

Davos nodded. “Aye. He’ll play martyr to the press. Damn vultures are everywhere.” He straightened his back and adjusted his dinner jacket. “Wish me luck.”

Sansa appreciated the sentiment, but this situation was only an issue because of her. She didn’t want Joffrey to get the satisfaction of causing a public scene on her account, or noting that his sudden appearance discomforted her.

“No, I’ll do it, not you Davos. It’ll be terrible for the Westeros Historical Society if this dinner gets bad publicity. We’ve all put in so much work.” She steeled herself. “Let me talk to them. Joffrey can’t hurt me anymore.”

Stannis shook his head. “You don’t have to do this. I stopped giving a shit about our family’s, Robert’s, political ambitions when his party ran on the platform of banning marriage between same-sex couples. He’s obviously got an agenda for bringing his rotten son here.”

“I don’t want them making a scene if we ask them to leave. It’s only on my account that this is even an issue. Joffrey must have known I would attend a dinner at my old family home, I might be able to convince them to leave. At the very least I can find out why they are all here.”

Davos looked fierce. “Give me a signal if you need help. If that gobshite Joffrey so much as looks at you wrong.”

Sansa nodded and walked across the great hall towards the newcomers, drawing on her anger for strength. She could feel Joffrey’s gaze on her as she strode over, but she kept her eyes on Robert. Sansa was a Stark of Winterfell. She was a wolf and they couldn’t hurt her.

She ignored the cameras as she reached them. Robert was chatting with a journalist, a striking young blonde woman. She addressed him. “Welcome to Winterfell. I’m Sansa Stark.”

He glanced briefly at her, most of his attention on the blonde. “Where’s my little brother? In the kitchens obsessing over the fancy salmon mousse with his ‘husband’ is he?” Robert made air quotes and Sansa frowned at him. He paused and blinked, then looked her up and down with uncomfortable lasciviousness. “Stark? Are you Ned’s girl?”

Joffrey cleared his throat and stepped closer to Sansa. She resisted the urge to shrink away. How dare he try to intimidate her. “This is the one I was talking about,” Joffrey said. “Sansa, meet my father Robert. You remember Petyr too.” He ignored the other men.

Sansa ignored Joffrey and Petyr and focused on Robert, smoothing her face to neutrality. “Yes, Senator Baratheon, Ned Stark was my father.”

Robert leaned toward her. He smelled like beer. “Ned must have mentioned me, we were at the Vale University together.”

Her father had not, but Sansa smiled as politely as she could manage. “I’m sure he did.”

“Sansa,” Joffrey said quietly. “We need to talk. I needed to see you urgently, but I knew you wouldn’t agree.”

His tone was eminently reasonable, but Sansa hadn’t forgotten. She pictured what it would be like for Kat to grow up watching someone hit her mother, in a house where violence was no further away than a perceived wrong word. She shoved her fury away, she had to be calm and controlled.  

“I can give you five minutes,” Sansa said coolly, meeting Joffrey’s eyes. “After that, I’ll need to keep helping to run the event.”

She swept over to the table which was marked as reserved for the men, letting them follow in her wake. She glanced over to the staff entrance. Stannis had disappeared but Davos was still there, arms folded across his chest and watching her every move.

The throng of press scattered at a wave from Robert.

She sat down and rested her arms on the table, clasping her hands. The men sat across from her and she felt for some slightly hysterical moment that they were in a job interview.

Joffrey gave what Sansa interpreted as an attempt at a reassuring smile. She was not reassured.

“It’s time for you to come home now,” he said, still smiling.

Of all the things she expected Joffrey to say, that was not it. Confusion muted her anger. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to be standing for the Senate down in Kings Landing, and I can’t have a bastard child in Winterfell.” He nodded, as if his words weren’t what Arya would doubtless describe as ‘batshit’.

Sansa shook her head, willing to show her bewilderment openly. “No one cares if a child’s parents were married or not.”

“Robert Baratheon’s Families United Party stands for traditional family values,” Robert said, flagging down a waitress who was carrying a tray full of champagne. He took a glass and leered openly at her bottom when she walked away again. “In these modern times the family is under threat from all sides. Broken homes, women’s liberation and the homosexual agenda all contribute to the destabilising of Westerosi society. We aim to change that.” He was almost bellowing by the end, looking like he belonged at a campaign rally rather than sitting at an antique table in her ancestral family home. His vast stomach wobbled with the fervour of his speech. Robert looked around when he finished speaking, clearly seeking a reaction.

Petyr gave him polite applause.

Sansa did not.

She looked back to Joffrey. “I still don’t follow. What is this about?”

“I have a child, so I need to be married to the child’s mother in the eyes of the Seven. You are relatively good looking, you would do for a political wife. Two birds, one stone.” He spoke slowly and clearly, and Sansa had the vivid recollection of him talking to her like that when they’d argue. He always claimed she was too stupid to understand him.

Joffrey once kicked her in the ribs when she pointed out that she had a university degree and he did not.

Sansa grimaced. The situation would be laughable if it wasn’t so bizarre and infuriating. She had the wild desire to laugh but years of trying not to antagonise Joffrey came to the fore. He was profoundly volatile under provocation, both real and imagined. She kept her voice as neutral and calm as she could. “Joffrey, I don’t want to marry you.”

Robert drained his wine glass and signalled for another. “You said she would agree to this, my boy.”

“You can’t seriously want to stay here,” Joffrey said, leaning forward with what most people would think was an earnest expression. Sansa didn’t trust it for a minute. “You live in that miserable little house. You’re a tour guide of all things. Come home and have a proper life.”

“How do you know where I live?” Sansa said, sick to her stomach at where this was going.

Joffrey made a dismissive gesture. “I needed to make sure you and Catelyn were safe. Especially given the company you’ve been keeping.“

Sansa felt sweat beginning to bead on her brow. “You’ve had people watching me.”

All those moments she’d wondered if she was being watched, if she was just being paranoid. She felt dirty. What if one of Joffrey’s men had heard her talking to Kat or Lady? What if they had heard her being intimate with Sandor? What about Lady’s leg?

“You are unstable with a history of making up lies about me.” Joffrey’s voice was dangerously soft. “You’re lucky I’m being generous about this. One word and I can take the child and have her raised in a proper environment.”

Sansa’s head was reeling, there was so much to unpack about what was happening. She chose the most obvious statement. “Joffrey you severed your parental rights.”

Robert waved his new, full, champagne flute at her. “We can get that overturned. A child needs both a father and a mother.”

“See? It’s fine. Your little temper tantrum won’t cause permanent harm.”

“This is a pointless,” said Sansa, starting to formulate how she could gracefully extract herself from the situation. “You say you have traditional family values, but it sounds like an excuse to do what you want regardless of other people’s feelings.”

Petyr finally spoke. “Robert and Joffrey are doing you a favour even having this conversation, Sansa. Joffrey knows what’s best for your little family.”

Anger almost overtook Sansa and she gritted her teeth so she didn’t say something she’d regret. She turned in her seat, about to signal Davos when a lithe figure slipped into the seat beside her.

Arya placed a pile of folders on the table in front of them. In contrast to everyone else’s formal dress Arya was wearing jeans and a forest green t-shirt which had a cartoon of a smiling puffin on the front. It read ‘BIOLOGISTS DO IT IN THE WILD. Westeros Institute of Biology 25th Annual Conference: Sandstone, Dorne’.

Sansa’s jaw dropped. “Arya what are you doing here? You should be at your symposium.”

Arya hummed. “I do love symposia. But I love my big sister more and I found out this morning who was planning on attending this gathering.” She bared her teeth in an approximation of a smile at Joffrey. “Good evening Fuck Face. Fuck Face’s father.” She nodded politely to Robert, who grunted, then turned her gaze to Petyr. “And whoever the fuck you are. I’ll call you Weasel Guy.”

Sansa leaned close and whispered to her. “I can do this on my own.”

“I know,” whispered Arya, patting Sansa’s knee. “But you don’t need to. We are pack.”

Sansa felt tears come to her eyes. “Thanks.”

Arya typed something on her phone and showed it to Sansa under the table.

 

**Sandor is comng w reinfrcments**

 

Relief flooded Sansa and her fury ebbed away, just a little. She wanted to see Sandor again, feel the comfort of his strong arms. Have the reminder that she was free of Joffrey. Properly and irrevocably free of Joffrey.

“I almost didn’t make it.” Arya tilted her head to the side. “The roads are blocked and there is a police action on the road to Winter town.”

Sansa frowned. “The roads are blocked? Why?”

“Why indeed,” said Arya, looking at the men across from them.

Robert took a swig of his champagne, though he seemed far more interested in the waitresses than what was happening at the table.

Joffrey picked at a fingernail.

Petyr gave a small smile.

“So, what were we discussing?” Arya said, shuffling the pile of folders. One of them had Joffrey’s name and date of birth scrawled on the front in Arya’s handwriting.

“Joffrey wants to get married.” Sansa kept her voice light, still reluctant to antagonise Joffrey too much.

Arya made a strangled noise. “To you?”

“Yes.”

Arya had no trouble laughing at that.

A lot.

She clutched Sansa’s arm and wheezed in her mirth, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“He thinks you might actually want to marry him?” she asked when she had caught her breath and wiped her eyes. “He’s less trustworthy than a fart when you have the runs.”

Sansa glanced sideways at her sister. “Arya, that’s disgusting.”

In a flash, all trace of humour dropped from Arya’s face. “Yes,” she said softly. “That’s the word I’d use to describe his proposal.”

Joffrey opened his mouth to speak but Sansa got in first.

She placed her palms flat on the table and leaned forward. “You’ve had more than your five minutes,” she said briskly. “No, Joffrey, neither Kat nor I will be going back to Kings Landing. You are welcome to contact Tyrion if you need another copy of our watertight agreement severing your parental rights.”

Joffrey leaned back in his chair and looked smug. “Uncle Tyrion won’t be bothering us any time soon.”

Sansa gasped, recalling that Tyrion hadn’t received the last SMS she’d sent him. “What did you do?”

Robert seemed to start paying attention again at the sound of Tyrion’s name. “I never liked the little shit. Only thing Cersei and I ever agreed on.”

Sansa kept her focus on Joffrey. “What did you do, Joffrey?”

Joffrey made a gesture of dismissal. “Oh, he’s fine. No permanent harm done.”

 “Okay, you need to leave,” said Arya softly, but with clear menace. “Quietly, without making a fuss.” She picked up Joffrey’s dossier and began flicking through it.

Petyr cleared his throat. “Poor Joffrey, having his child kept from him. This level of needless aggression is quite unnecessary after what had been an amicable situation. Why doesn’t Sansa make a public statement saying this is her desired course of action and we can all put this behind us. We’ll be able to explain the presence of a bastard if you have tried to do the right thing, Joffrey.”

Sansa swallowed her anger again. “Amicable?” she said in disbelief.

Joffrey looked from the folder Arya was holding, to the cameras who were now back at the entrance, then at his father. “We might not need to overturn the parental rights severance after all. Well that’s a shame for my Uncle. Sansa is clearly being manipulated by her family. She isn’t the brightest person.”

Robert took another drink. “It’s important to take a moral stand,” he said absently.

Arya looked astounded. “You’re fucking idiots.”

Sansa was gobsmacked. She had no idea what to say to such a bizarre situation.

“Why don’t we strike a deal?” Joffrey made a terrible parody of a smile. “You make a public statement saying you won’t marry me or let me near my child and I won’t contact you again. I can set up an interview for you, all very tasteful and all that.”

Sansa found her voice, this time shaking with the anger she was failing to control. “That’s ridiculous. No. Why would I possibly agree to that?”

The press were starting to look particularly interested as to what was happening at their table, even with Robert’s prior dismissal.

Arya caressed a slip of paper within the folder. “I wonder if…” she ostentatiously checked something on the paper, “…Ros would be interested in attending an interview with my sister? Or Daisy?”

Petyr stood up. “It’s time to go,” he said to Robert and Joffrey. “We need to cut this evening short.”

“Ros is just a whore,” Joffrey said loudly, and Sansa noticed the nearest journalist typing something frantically into their phone. “Whores don’t matter. I am an upstanding member of the community.”

Petyr’s face looked pinched.

Robert frowned at Arya. “What else did Ros say?” he said.

Joffrey reached into his pocket and produced his phone, which he held up. “Sansa. Just a short statement if you don’t want to speak to a journalist. You wanted this course of action. Why wouldn’t you admit to it? We both win. My political career is untarnished and Winterfell doesn’t get any bad press.” He looked meaningfully over towards the main doors.

“This is ridiculous, far beyond negative publicity,” hissed Sansa. “First you ask me to marry you and then you do a complete one eighty and ask me to say publicly that I’m keeping Kat from you? And you admit you’ve had us watched?”

“I need to start my new career untarnished by the shit you’ve dragged me through, regardless of how we achieve that,” said Joffrey stubbornly.

Sansa threw her hands up in the air. “You didn’t care when Kat and I left and you were more than happy to sign the orders so you didn’t have to pay child support.”

“Thank fuck for that too,” said Arya definitively.  

Joffrey’s face was bright red. “I always get what I want.”

Sansa stood up, icy calm.

“Fuck off, Joffrey,” she said, and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! 😊

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Just Us, The Scarred and the Broken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605382) by [TeriTheTacticalUnicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn/pseuds/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn)




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